The Invader Zim Saga: Left Behind
by Gaz Almighty
Summary: After a casaclysmic explosion, Zim is stranded. Fast-forward 7 years, when Zim discovers the Irkin's are coming to annihalate Earth. Mild slash warning (Red/Purple). Chapter 10 UP!!!!
1. Prologue

Zim cackled evilly as he peered through the glass at his latest experiment. I glowed with radiation that spoke to him only one word: Domination.  
  
This new weapon will surely defeat the pitiful human army in one sweep, he thought. It was manufactured in the vacuum surface of the moon, the only environment stable enough to promote the manufacture of such a weapon.  
  
One small step for man indeed.  
  
Zim regained control of himself and inserted his arms into gloves of the containment box. He slipped radiation-blocking goggles onto his head and began to examine the led shield that incased the devise.  
  
He had to be meticulous about his work – one false move with the probes in his hands and – BOOM! Bye-bye base, bye-bye caldasack. He inhaled deeply as he rotated the devise on its dolly, inspecting each square inch to make sure there was no faulty insulation.  
  
Several minutes later, when he was just about done, he thought he spotted something. It wasn't much, maybe just a figment of his imagination, but you can never be too careful.  
  
When dominating the world, of course.  
  
So he donned a different pair of goggles, and commanded them to magnify. They did, and he was given a more detailed view of the obstruction. There was definitely something there. Maybe nothing serious, but something.  
  
He composed himself, and positioned the probes on either side of the flaw. He maneuvered slowly, carefully, slowly, and carefully…  
  
A bead of sweat ran silently down the side of his green check. He whipped it away with a shrug of his shoulder. Every second, he moved in closer, even more careful, because if this WAS anything it was bound to be a delicate situation. One wrong move…  
  
Suddenly a crack ran down the side of the container. Surprised and shocked, Zim hurriedly pulled away the probes that were just seconds from making contact. He watched, in horror, as the radioactive fluid began to seep out of the insulation. Each second the flow of it increased.  
  
Finally coming to his senses, Zim tore his arms out of the gloves, ripped the goggles from his head, and began to run frantically down the corridor, leaving the rather expensive equipment behind. – It wouldn't serve much purpose in a few seconds.  
  
Pumping with his arms, Zim shouted orders as he sprinted through the interior base.  
  
"COMPUTER!!" he shouted, "SEAL ALL EMERGENCY EXITS!! STOP ALL UNNECISSARY BASE FUNCTION AND FOR IRK'S SAKE SWITCH TO EMERGENCY POWER!!"  
  
"Yes, master." Complied the mediocre voice. Doors slammed shut as Zim passed through them. He could hear the internal works of the frame welding the steal doors shut, never to be reopened. He wondered frantically – how, why, and FOR IRK'S SAKE WHERE IN THE COSMOS WAS G.I.R?!?  
  
"COMPUTER!" he shouted, "SCAN THE PREMESIS FOR ROBOT SERIAL NUMBER 564-344- 2565!!"  
  
"Scanning." It responded. Zim could see the emergency shoot up ahead. (So close!)  
  
"Found." Came the voice. "Serial number 564-344-2565 is in the upper chambers."  
  
Zim thanked the Irkin god's as he heard that. He skidded to a stop in front of the emergency shoot and leapt inside. Once there, he braced for impact, and slammed a gloved fist through the small glass window labeled: "Push my you just try it!"  
  
He knew what would happen, and he had precious seconds to get out. The radioactive liquid would continue to seep through, heating the air and building the pressure. Finally, when the air was radioactive and the pressure was too much, and containment area would explode outward, contaminating the entire base with radiation. This would cause the other weapons of mass destruction to overheat, and go off as well. The blast should be minimal if all the doors sealed, but at this point nothing was to be counted on.  
  
His fist compressed the 'launch' button, and almost instantaneously the thrusters beneath the capsule hurled it upward. Zim collapsed under the G- forces and hit the floor of the capsule hard.  
  
For a moment, the gravity seemed never ending, but after a moment it stopped. Zim knew that the emergency pod had reached zero-G, and would soon plummet to the Earth. Almost as soon as he thought it, he felt the sensation of free falling. He gripped the floor of the capsule and held on for dear life. He knew that at any moment, the bottom of the capsule would drop out, and he would have to activate the jets in his backpack for a smooth landing. But he hadn't used the jets in so long, and he doubted their ability on such short notice.  
  
The bottom gave way, and Zim wedged his way through the separating pieces. He began to freefall, and did what he was trained to do in such a situation.  
  
He was confident that the jets wouldn't work, so instead of using precious second beating a dead horse, he began to dive headfirst to the ground. He spread his arms wide like a swan dive, and crossed one of them over his chest. With that he tapped the small button located on his uniform, just below the collar.  
  
His backpack opened and a small parachute released, for a moment slowing the fall. But it did not last long; because Zim was already too close to the ground and wind resistance was not adequate. The chute flapped uselessly behind him, and he was going to hit the ground just as the house erupted.  
  
At first it was just the light, then after what seemed like forever, a crashing BOOM rocked the city. Zim was blown of his collision course with the Earth and the blast acted like a cushion, softening the fall marginally. He still hit hard, and almost blacked out until he heard an all too familiar voice: GIR.  
  
"WwwwwwWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" cried GIR as he was shot through the air. He landed a few feet from Zim, who was doubled over in pain. He immediately rushed to his master's side.  
  
"Let's do that AGAIN!"  
  
Usually Zim would have reprimanded the robot for such inappropriate talk, but he was too distracted with the massive explosion that had just occurred. Clutching his stomach with one hand, he reached the other up to his brow and found blood. He must have hit the capsule floor harder than he thought. It currently didn't hurt, but Zim knew that his body was pumping endorphins through his blood and eventually the pain would come. He glanced over at the former base-  
  
The aftershocks were still being felt, as Zim looked over at the spot where his house used to be. The ground was leveled, and a deep pit lay there. Several houses around the blast had been damaged or completely flattened by the explosion. He gathered the strength to walk, and headed towards the hole in the ground that was his home.  
  
He peered down, and could see that the top of the subterranean base was still intact; it was merely the FORCE of the blast that caused the explosion. That would explain the lack of pedestrians running in pain from radiation exposure. Dirt was still falling back into place, and with a little luck, would cover the top of the base completely. It was only then that Zim realized he was outside his base – what was his base- without a disguise.  
  
"Quick GIR," said Zim weakly, "Hand me the emergency disguise."  
  
GIR opened his chest cavity, and pulled out a Sox baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. He handed them to Zim. Zim slipped on the sunglasses, and put the baseball cap on backwards so that the brim would not obstruct his view of the scene. He eyed the hole in the ground, realizing with a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach the evident truth.  
  
Everything was there: Their home, the equipment, and most damming of all, the Voot cruiser. Zim grit his teeth, wrapped his arms around his battered body and spoke the dreaded words –  
  
"We're stranded GIR. No way home, no way back, nothing. We're stranded forever on this pitiful ball of filth." 


	2. The Need for Speed

Disclaimer: I don't own Zim  
  
This Saga is going to be a novel-like story: very detailed and long. It multi-parted and will update periodically with new chapters.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
7 YEARS LATER  
  
Zim lay in his bed, listening to the sounds of the night.  
  
So quiet, he thought, compared to the nights of Irk. No rushing to war, no surprise attack, nothing. Just quiet…  
  
Zim thought of Irk, as he often did at night and in times of stress.  
  
Seven years, he thought, seven years I have been hear without a lifeline. Seven years without the mission. Seven years alone, the only one of my kind on this small blue ball spinning through space. I've adapted, hoping, praying to the gods that they would come. But nothing. No armada, no rescue.  
  
I realize now that I was a joke. They wanted to get rid of me. I was a pest that they ditched on a hopefully fatal mission, but survived by mistake. And when the base blew, all hopes of return erupted with it. I've done them a favor. …I've disappeared.  
  
Zim clenched his hands into fists as the pain came flooding back. So vivid, the pain, when he remembered it on these nights. These quiet, serine, EARTH nights. But he supposed it was better this way. No more living a lie, he thought, this life may not be what my parents had in mind (whoever they were) but at least its real.  
  
Zim sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and sighed, no point trying to sleep.  
  
While thinking, he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror next to the door. It was just a silhouette, the moonlight casting itself through the window, illuminating the room ever so slightly. But it was enough to enable Zim to evaluate his transformation.  
  
The basics were still there: pasty green complexion, large pink/red eyes; but these features were not visible in the mirror. The one that was, was different. His height had changed dramatically. He now stood just less than six feet at 5'9. When Dib and the other children in his class began to grow, Zim knew he had to get real tall real fast if he was to remain incognito. So he walked into a pharmacy one day and stole several bottles of human growth hormones. He began to take the pills orally, every day until he began to show signs of growth. The first days of the drugs were worse than chemotherapy; the constant vomiting, the headaches, and he missed so much school because of it they were beginning to become suspicious. He used what equipment was left in his backpack to culture his own blood and test for and change. Finally, after several weeks, his symptoms began to improve. His blood began to resemble a homosapien's more and more until finally, he began to grow. The change was so dramatic that Zim feared the other kids in his school might notice, but luckily it was a point in adolescence when every child, it seemed, was going through dramatic growth spurts. No one really noticed.  
  
Zim stood up and turned on the lamp, momentarily shielding his eyes from the relatively bright light compared to the moon. Now he could fully evaluate his appearance. Clad in nothing but a pair of boxers that matched his eyes, he slipped on a black t-shirt and walked into the bathroom.  
  
He flicked on the light and peered into the mirror. Leaning on the heals of his hands, to examined his face with a tired fascination. Something about it made him obsessed. Zim had never been vain when he was his former self, but now it drove him mad. He knew that on Irk, his height coupled with his general appearance would draw a lot of attention from female Irkins', but now he had to hide it behind contacts and false hair. A masterpiece of genetics eternally hidden beneath a mask of survival.  
  
He rapped his fingers on the porcelain counter. He had to get some sleep. It was pointless squandering over something he could not change. And besides, his life wasn't so bad. He had a prosperous high skool career, and a promising future in science (on account that he was the only one in his physics class that knew quantum mechanics). He was sure to get a scholarship and afterwards, land a job in a university – hell – maybe even work for NASA. Ironic, that years after he was sent to destroy a planet he would be trusted with its most delicate military secrets.  
  
Zim dropped his hands of the counter and narrowed his eyes at his reflection.  
  
"Freak," he muttered.  
  
His voice had changed too. To had lost it's piercing edge that had come to him so naturally before. It was now a bit more mediocre and stereotypical of a human teenager. He didn't like THAT very much, but it was a small price for survival. He flicked off the light and walked out.  
  
He plopped back down on the bed, sighed, and switched off the lamp. Resting the crook of his elbow across his eyes he tried to slip into unconsciousness, but felt a slight abrasion against his skin. He lifted his arm to it, and touched it lightly. He bit his lip and closed his eyes when he realized what it was.  
  
It was a scare, right above his brow. The scare he received the day he escaped from his base's lab. He had hit the ground when the escape capsule blasted off, and the skin above his eye had been lacerated. A puckered scare remained where he had been cut. It was small, but a direct reminder of what had been. He had left everything – save GIR – when he was fully settled into his new way of life. Even his backpack, which had been physically attached to him since birth, was left behind and disposed of down an old access pipe back down into the subterranean base, where it would remain forever. He still had scares from where the internal parts of the backpack had dislodged from his spine and ribcage. The backpack, or APUP (all purpose utility pack) had used his body for energy and support. Its probes had been imbedded in his flesh for a long time, and the pain was excruciating when he tried to remove it. He finally did, and was temporarily paralyzed while his nervous system recuperated. His back still hurt if he strained it for lengthy a period of time.  
  
No use reopening old wounds, he thought, get some sleep and forget about this. After a period of tossing and turning, he fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
The next morning, he woke in much better spirits. He knew she would be there, and that was worth getting up for. He showered (his humanized metabolism had cured his skin of water-blisters) and dressed hurriedly. He wore his classic pink uniform shirt, a pair of khaki shorts that passed his knees, no gloves, a pair of black ADIDAS with white stripes, and a spiked bracelet around his right wrist. Strapping a watch around his other wrist, he pulled his wig and contacts down from a shelf in the bathroom.  
  
He popped in the contacts and blinked several times before they settled into a comfortable position. Then, pulling his antennas flat against his head he slipped on the wig.  
  
A few months earlier, he had begun to notice the social patterns and trends that swept through the high skool constantly. One thing that he had noticed were the hairstyles of the kids. More and more his 'hair style' stuck out like a sore thumb among the trendy. And despite his own sense of what looked good, he felt he could not risk sticking out, for fear of becoming, as Dib so gently put it: "Just another alien autopsy on FOX."  
  
So Zim had changed it, and it wasn't' so bad. Instead of black and combed back, his hair was now blonde and spiked. The style was common around the skool and Zim never got suspicious glances. He was just another guy in the melting pot of pop-culture.  
  
He squirted gel on his hand, whipped it across the wig and began the rather sloppy work of spiking it. He finished, and washed his hands off. Drying them, he looked at himself in the mirror.  
  
"You poser," he said with a smirk, "But isn't everybody?"  
  
He walked out of the bathroom and lifted his skool backpack off the floor, where it had been leaning against the wall. He headed to the kitchen to get something to-  
  
"HI!" cried a voice, and Zim nearly fell over in surprise. It was GIR, standing on the kitchen table, surrounded by glasses.  
  
"GIR!" yelled Zim, regaining his composure, "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
GIR smiled widely and brought out a spoon out, holding it triumphantly in the air.  
  
"I'm gonna play music!"  
  
He then proceeded tap the glasses with the spoon, oo'ing and ah'ing as they made sound. Zim shook his head and drank some water out of a glass.  
  
"HEY!" cried GIR, "That's G flat!"  
  
Zim had to laugh. He decided he was too excited to eat, so he grabbed his keys and opened the door.  
  
GIR gasped. "Wait!" Zim turned.  
  
"You coming home today?!"  
  
"I have a game today, but I shouldn't very late."  
  
"OK."  
  
Zim was halfway out the door when –  
  
"WAIT!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
GIR jumped up and down. "You gonna drag race now?"  
  
Zim smiled, the little guy caught on fast.  
  
"Yes, GIR. I'll see you later."  
  
"OK!" As Zim walked out to his car, GIR went to the window and waved furiously. ZIM frantically motioned for him to get back inside. Finally comprehending, GIR nodded dramatically and gave a big thumbs up. Zim slapped his forehead and climbed into his car.  
  
OK, he had gone overboard with the car. He had basically grifted and stolen everything he currently owned, with intelligence and a little luck. Everything was moderate and normal for this area and social class – but the car was a bit much. It was a dark red sports car, with all the bells and whistles. When he first realized that he needed a car, he went searching for something practical that would take him to and from school. What he ended up buying was almost the complete opposite.  
  
He did not know what magic humans saw in cars; they were a primitive way of transportation. They ate natural resources and polluted the already dirty atmosphere. But he too, was over taken by their spell. Maybe it was the speed, maybe it was the torque, or maybe it was the sense of power he got every time he was behind the wheel, the adrenaline as he sunk his foot lower and lower to the ground, and the rush he got when he raced down Monroe Avenue through the forest.  
  
He sat, and placed his backpack on the front seat. He pulled up the collar of his 'Nixon High' jacket and turned the key in the ignition. The engine revved and Zim couldn't help but feel a mischievous smile creep across his lips. All the pain, all the torment of last night melted away with the sound of the engine. He pulled it into reverse and backed out.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
About ten minutes later, he arrived. He stopped the car at the top of the hill on Monroe Avenue and just waited. At this time of day and in this part of the forest preserve a passing car was a rarity, so he was in no real danger. As he waited, he looked about the scenery. To his left was dense, green forest. The branches waved in the breeze, and puffy clouds skidded across the azure sky. To his right, through a few scattered trees, lies the coast. The early morning light danced on its surface about a hundred feet down, at the same level as the base of the hill. This hill, they had chosen especially because: a) it was steep, b) the edge of the hill over the water had no guardrail, adding an element of danger, and c) because it was secluded enough to avoid most interference by cops or other cars. Some ways down the road from the base of the hill was a traffic light. It was just far enough to be seen, but resembled a small dot. It would initiate the beginning of the race.  
  
Zim watched the light cast shadows of leaves over the hood of the car, they moved in the wind and were accompanied by the sound of it. All together it was quite relaxing, and Zim probably would have just watched it until skool started if it weren't for the adrenaline pumping through is veins.  
  
Where WAS she?  
  
Was she out sick today? No, she would have called and told him it was off. So then where –  
  
Somewhere close behind him, an engine revved. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw what he had been waiting for. A black, supped-up, monster of a car was behind him, revving shamelessly. Zim revved in reply.  
  
The car pulled up next to him – in the on-coming lane – and stopped. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and looked over at the driver.  
  
There she sat, her right hand on the wheel, sunglasses perched on her nose, purple hair curled behind her pierced right ear.  
  
Gaz, he thought, you're looking eager this morning.  
  
On her face was a look of determination. She rapped her fingers on the wheel, and lowered the Oakley sunglasses down her nose. She turned towards him, made a kissing motion with her lips, then turned back and pushed the glasses back up. Zim laughed as he switched into a higher gear. She was ready.  
  
The car she was driving had been a gift from her father as a sweet sixteen present. Prof. Membrane had gone out of his way to keep his daughter from snapping and stealing a car. He had bought an already AWESOME car, and enhanced in every conceivable was. It was jet black, with chrome hubcaps that resembled several pentagrams stacked. It had spoiler that was swept back, with points resembling devil horns. All of that, coupled with the gills on the side and hood, came together to be one badass car. Zim felt almost honored to race it.  
  
Gaz herself was a seasoned veteran in the art of evasive driving. Her father, with his job requirements, needed a degree of security for his family. In return for working for them, his mysterious employers trained both Dib and Gaz in martial arts and evasive driving. Gaz had taken the training to heart, and was as skilled behind the wheel as a CIA agent. She now placed her other hand on the wheel and revved repeatedly.  
  
Zim knew the time was coming. He gripped the wheel, and stared intently on the light up ahead. His pulse quickened, his mind raced, and he grit his teeth in suspense.  
  
Suddenly the light for the street crossing Monroe turned yellow, then red. Any moment now the light ahead would go green and the two teenage drivers would screech down the hill at break-neck speed.  
  
Zim counted down, as he had timed the light before: Four, three, two –  
  
"ONE!" he and Gaz screamed in unison, although they did not hear each other. They floored the pedals and flew down the hill at over eighty mph.  
  
For an eternity, it seemed, Zim was in the lead. But Gaz caught up and was beginning to break away. The trees sailed past, hardly recognizable as the cars sped on. Both drivers couldn't help but smile wickedly as they barreled along the coast.  
  
Nothing, it seemed, compared to the total high Zim got off racing. He had in the past, gone near the speed of light in the Voot cruiser, but somehow now; between the forest and the coast, on the ground, in a primitive pollution spouting, gas-guzzling vehicle, it was total euphoria. Adrenaline was like a drug, baby, and only a brave few could ever get hooked.  
  
But Gaz, he thought, was worse than him. She insisted on racing down the wrong side of the street, and – contrary to Zim – had no airbags and wore no seatbelt. She wasn't just an adrenaline junkie – she was insane.  
  
Both sets of eyes locked on the road ahead, their peripheral vision unconsciously keeping the other's car in check. They were neck and neck, the invisible finish line rushing towards them at impossible speeds. The cars closed in –  
  
200 yards – 150 yards – 100 – 75 - 50 -!!  
  
It was the home stretch, the final lap the –  
  
"WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
  
Sirens blared behind the two racers and approached them, ready to make arrests.  
  
Both cars slammed on the breaks. Zim tensed up in anger, then slammed the heal of his hand into the steering wheel.  
  
"FUCK!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and began to pull the car over.  
  
Gaz swore also, and followed suit. They were escorted out of their cars, cuffed, and put into the back of a squad car. 


	3. The Sign

Disclaimer: Me no own Zim.  
  
_________________________________  
  
The car pulled up to the school and parked near the office. Zim and Gaz were escorted out of the squad car, uncuffed, and dragged to the Dean's office by their collars. A brawny policeman dragged them through the hall, their feet hardly touching the ground. He reached the office and threw them both in.  
  
When they staggered to their feet, they were faced by the Dean of students, glaring at them with contempt. He commanded them both in his office and thanked the policeman for bringing them in.  
  
"What the HELL do you think you're doing!" he screamed when Zim and Gaz were seated. They both crossed their arms and prepared for the lecture.  
  
"You could have been killed, or worse, KILLED someone else! This kind of reckless behavior cannot be tolerated." He scanned them both with his eyes, stopping temporarily on the pentagram necklace around Gaz's neck. She cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"No one is on the street this early – HELL, hardly anyone drives down that street to begin with. We weren't endangering anybody. And as for us-" see looked at Zim, then looked back at the dean. "If we want to take risks' that's our business." The dean became even more enraged.  
  
"I'm calling your parents. You two are lucky you're minors, or else you would have been arrested long ago." He opened a file cabinet drawer forcefully, and yanked out their files.  
  
He first opened the file from the 'X' drawer. Zim had used the pseudonym 'Xavier' as a last name. The dean yanked out the contact card and punched in the number with a stabbing motion.  
  
He finished, and tapped the desk top with a fevered motion, trying to keep his rage under control. He cradled the phone under his ear and waited impatiently for a response.  
  
Of course, Zim and Gaz both knew, that there never would be a response. And there wasn't one at the false number Zim gave him as his Dad's work either. The dean hung up with a growl and dialed Gaz's house.  
  
"Hello?" asked Prof. Membrane when he answered the phone. The dean was almost startled that Gaz and Dib's rarely seen father was there.  
  
"Um, yes, this is Mr. McCabe, the dean at Gaz's high skool."  
  
"Well, hello. I'm sorry I must make this brief, I'm conducting a very delicate experi-"  
  
There was a large boom heard from the other end of the line. The dean went pale.  
  
"Cancel that, take all the time you need. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Well, um…" Mr. McCabe was always a bit nervous when talking to the world- renowned Dr. Membrane, but it happened so infrequently that when he did communicate with him, the entire affair was magnified. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.  
  
"Your daughter Gaz was just brought in for reckless driving by a squad car. I want you to know that this is the second time she has been brought in for this, and once more would call for her to be suspended."  
  
Gaz made a fist and stabbed her elbow backward in a victorious motion. Zim hand to stifle a laugh with his hand.  
  
At that point, Prof. Membrane began to yell.  
  
"Yes but-" cried the Dean.  
  
Prof. Membrane was talking about god-given rights, and something about suing the school if they busted her again. Prof. Membrane was a fan of racing himself.  
  
Finally, the Dean gave up. He ripped two passes off a pad, scribbled wildly on them and thrust them to Gaz and Zim. He told them he would have their asses on a platter the next time they pulled a stunt like this. They both got up and left without a word.  
  
Out in the hall, they released their laughter. The Dean had nothing and he knew it. Gaz put her hands on her hips and nodded triumphantly.  
  
"I like how that went," she said. They grabbed their backpacks off the bench outside the office and walked down to their classes.  
  
Zim was a bit more conservative. "Maybe we should lay low – just for a while. They could get suspicious and show up at my house."  
  
Gaz looked at him. She knew he lived alone, but she didn't know why. She really didn't care.  
  
"Yea maybe your right," she said, looking at the ground. "For whatever reasons you live without parents, it none of anyone's business. I don't care why, but social services would."  
  
She glanced up at him. "But as soon as you turn eighteen you have no excuse."  
  
Zim laughed. "Deal. I was gonna beat you anyway."  
  
Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "Oh yea, sure. You say that now. But on the hill you were eating my dust," She stuck out her arms like they were turning a steering wheel. "Burning rubber – it's what I live for."  
  
Zim smiled. "Yea, and take into account your insane – I have got quite a competitor on my hands."  
  
Gaz slung an arm around Zim's neck and they continued to walk down the corridor.  
  
"You're damn strait ya' do. And we're gonna settle this dispute tomorrow."  
  
Zim groaned. "Oh, Gaz, no. I do not want to go out of my way just to prove I won. Besides – conference is tomorrow, so I have no time."  
  
Gaz pushed him away playfully. "So now the jock doesn't have time to hang out with dorks' like me." She crossed her arms and pretended to weep.  
  
"Sometimes I don't even know who you are anymore, Zim." She cried, stopped to peek through her fingers, and then cried again. Zim laughed.  
  
"Hey, I didn't know I was gonna make the basketball team. My counselor said I had to have some extra curriculars' if I wanted to get into my top choice college. It was a fluke that I made all ten baskets is a row."  
  
Gaz sighed. "Fine. But you forfeit."  
  
"Fine. I wouldn't want to evoke your wrath or anything."  
  
Gaz smiled wickedly. "No. We don't want that do we." She laughed evilly, then stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. Zim shook his head.  
  
"You're nuts."  
  
"Would you have it any other way?"  
  
They arrived at her class and she walked in. He heard her just before the door closed.  
  
"Gaz, you're late."  
  
"Bit me."  
  
Zim continued down the hall to his locker, where he dropped his backpack and brought out a concealed cellular phone he had snuck in. He called GIR.  
  
"GIR? This is Zim," he said, talking over the machine. "Pickup."  
  
A moment later the small robot answered. "Yeeeeeeeeesssssssss?"  
  
"Nothing, just checking up. See you later." He hung up, turned the phone off and hid it in his locker.  
  
Despite the fact Zim had been stranded on Earth for 7 years, there was still an element of paranoia when dealing wit his house. It had no security like his old one. The only protection was GIR, and Zim checked in periodically to sure everything was OK. He walked down the hall and into his class.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
At lunch, Zim sat with a select group of people who didn't completely despise his existence. He didn't talk, just ate what little of the cafeteria food he could digest and kept to himself. It was an improvement from elementary skool, because in high skool he was not ridiculed.  
  
He took a sip of pop as he saw Gaz approaching. For a moment she seemed to be struggling with turning the corner, but he smiled when he realized she was dragging Dib by the ear over to him.  
  
Dib hadn't changed much at all. He still wore glasses and a black trench coat. His hairstyle hadn't' changed, in fact the only thing that had changed was his height. Dib was a few inches shorter than Zim, and one or two shorter than Gaz. Gaz, dressed in a black tank top, baggy black jeans, black boots and various pieces of metallic jewelry looked considerably more intimidating than her brother. She commanded him to sit at the table and he obeyed.  
  
"Well," she said, standing behind her brother, insuring his obedience, "Dib here is going to give us a ride to Monroe to pick up our cars." Dib snapped to attention and spun to meet Gaz.  
  
"WHAO! You didn't say anything about him! I mean, you're bad enough, but him too!?"  
  
Gaz squinted one eye and opened the other wide. "YES, Dib. All you have to do is drop us off at Monroe and Walsh. Quit whining or I'll gouge out your eyes."  
  
She plopped down next to him and took a sip of Zim's pop without asking.  
  
"But-but-but-" said Dib, or the brink of yelling from frustration.  
  
"Yea," said Zim, "And be quick about it. I got a game today."  
  
Dib stood and pointed an angered finger at Zim.  
  
"Shut up alien! I know your plans and they won't work! I'll prove you're from another world if I have to kill to do it!" Zim slapped Dib's hand away with the back of his hand. He stood and leaned over the table at Dib.  
  
"When will you quite, Dib? When will you stop lying to yourself and just accept the fact that you're delusional." Zim said, regaining a bit of an edge to his voice.  
  
Dib opened his mouth in shock, then clenched his teeth in anger. "Delusional, yea right. I know what you are and you can't deny me! I-"  
  
Gaz lifted Zim's try of uneaten food and slammed it into Dib's face. Dib just stood as the tray slowly slid off his face and chest. "You idiot," yelled Gaz. "If he was so set on conquering the Earth, then why hasn't he done it already!?" Zim had a feeling of being kicked in the gut as she said that, but the feeling was fleeting and passed through him momentarily.  
  
Dib furiously tried to whip away crusty mashed potatoes and peas. "You'll admit it some day, ZIM! And when you do, I'll be there to laugh. Ah- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…" With that he ran off to the bathroom.  
  
"Dork." Said Gaz, and continued to sip pop.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
That night, after Dib had protestingly driven him to pick up his car, Zim had gone to the game. He was a starter, and a rather good player considering he had never played the game on Irk. He dribbled the ball through his legs and stared intently into the eyes of the defenseman in front of him. A smirk crossed his face and a bead of sweat fell down the side of his brow. When the defenseman's guard was down Zim spun against him and make a break for the basket. He made wide strides, and finally jumped for it, the ball rolling angelically off the tips of his fingers and falling into the basket as he hung from it.  
  
He dropped from the rim and cheers echoed through the gym. He received high- fives from his teammates and applause from his coach. The other team greeted him with nasty looks. He just smiled at them.  
  
They grabbed the ball and started towards Zim's team's basket. Zim ran up, and was on the guy holding the ball. It was easy; Zim towered over the guy, who couldn't have been more that five three. He tried to make a break for it, but Zim was on him. In a desperate and cheap move, the guy elbowed Zim in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to his knees and held his middle.  
  
The referee blew his whistle and called the foul. Zim's coach ran up to him.  
  
"You OK?" he said. "That was a cheap trick! Can you go on?"  
  
Several of Zim's teammates were now surrounding him. "Does it hurt?" one of them asked.  
  
Zim sneered. "No, it feels good. OF COURSE IT HURTS!"  
  
"Son!" cried the coach, trying to recapture Zim's attention. "I said are you still able to play?" Zim, doubled over, glanced at the guy who had hit him. He was getting congratulations from his team and even his coach. Zim spit on the floor. "Yea, I can play."  
  
"Alright then." The coach stood and replaced several of the starters. Zim stood, caught the ball from the ref and waited at the free throw line to take his shots.  
  
They assembled around the edges of the free throw line and Zim dribbled several times before lazily shooting the ball. Swish, nothing but net. The crowd clapped and the opposing team sneered.  
  
He dribbled, lined up his shot, but stopped for a moment. He made full eye contact with the guy who had hit him, his piercing stare making him think twice about hitting him. It was for only a second, but for the player who hit Zim it was an eternity.  
  
Zim made the shot and it went in. The crowd cheered as the game proceeded. Zim jogged after the ball, at all times keeping an eye on the prick that had elbowed him.  
  
The ball holder dribbled down the court, but in a brilliant come-from- behind move Zim stole it. Spinning on his heal, he passed the ball to his teammate Rob, who rushed down the court. Zim followed, directly behind the punk who hit him.  
  
About ten feet from the basket where Rob was making his shot, Zim deliberately stepped on the back of the puck's shoe. The kid, not expecting this, tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground hard. Zim pretended not to notice and followed the ball to the basket, where he made a rebound and won the game.  
  
The coach for the other team tried to call the foul, but the ref hadn't seen it and told him the point counted. Zim jogged back the bench and laughed mischievously. The player that had fallen was being helped up by several of his teammates. He had probably twisted his ankle. Zim glanced at him over his shoulder and winked. The player went pale, and limped back to his bench with the assistance of his teammates.  
  
Zim hung a towel around his neck and walked into the locker room. He showered, changed, and was lacing up his shoes when the coach walked up to him.  
  
"Zim! There's a phone call for ya'." Zim, a little bewildered, said OK and took the phone. Who would be calling him?  
  
"Hello?" he said, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he laced up his Adidas. A groan came from the other end of the line.  
  
Zim stopped tying his shoe and help the phone to his ear with both hands. "GIR?"  
  
Another groan. "GIR is this you?"  
  
"Yes master…" he groaned, louder this time. Zim began to worry. "GIR what's wrong?"  
  
"I…I…don't…feel so good…" and with that the line disconnected. Zim shot up from where he was sitting and stared at the phone.  
  
"Hey, you OK?" asked Matt. Matt's hair was spiked like Zim's but brown. "I said are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."  
  
Zim shook his head and handed the phone to Matt. "Give this to coach Lawson. I've gotta go." He shrugged on his jacket and began pulling his backpack out of the locker.  
  
"We're going for pizza right now. Aren't you coming?"  
  
Zim tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and turned towards the door. "No, I can't. Something's come up."  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim raced like a madman home. Not for fun, but out of fear. What had happened? Had someone broken in and hurt GIR? If Dib has hurt GIR so help me God…  
  
Zim screeched to a halt in his driveway and ran to the front door. As he thumbed through his keys he observed that there were no signs of forced entry. Somehow that made him worry more.  
  
He swung the door open and turned his head frantically in search of GIR. "GIR?" he yelled. A muffled groan came from somewhere in the house. "GIR!" he yelled louder. He dropped his backpack and ran to the back of the house. In his room, he found GIR curled up in the comforter, groaning. He rushed to the side of the bed, knelt, and pulled the little robot close to him.  
  
"GIR what's happening?" he asked, trying to conceal the sheer terror in his voice. GIR groaned. "I don't feel so good…something's…in me…it hurts…"  
  
Zim pushed the sheets away from GIR and laid him on his back. "Alright GIR, I'm gonna turn you off for a minute, OK? It will only be for a second, I have to find out what's hurting you."  
  
Gir nodded as Zim reached in back of the small robot's neck and carefully switched him off. GIR's usually bright eyes went dark, as Zim tenderly removed the top of his head, revealing the computer-like components inside. He shifted the wires around with his fingers, trying to see if anything was out of place and causing GIR pain. Everything seemed to be normal – until he came across a wire with something attached to it.  
  
Zim recognized it as a universal transmitter component, and it was going off. The wire it was bound to was connected to GIR's central processing unit, which would explain why it was causing him pain. Zim knew that in order to stop the pain he had to find a replacement wire.  
  
He grabbed a flashlight and screwdriver from a cabinet and went into the bathroom. Using the screwdriver, he managed to dismantle the panel behind the light on the wall. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he pulled the wire works out from underneath the paneling. Then with one firm pull, he yanked several wires out of wall. Thankfully the light was turned off and he was not electrocuted.  
  
He left the flashlight and screwdriver in the bathroom and rushed back to the bedroom. Gently, using nail clippers, he snipped the offensive wire out from GIR's head. GIR's body convulsed as the wire was removed, and it gave Zim chills.  
  
Zim pulled the rubber covering back off the ends of both cut wires, and carefully twisted the wire parts together. When he was satisfied, he replaced GIR's crown and switched him back on. GIR awoke – groggy – but he woke up. He rubbed his eyes.  
  
"GIR?" asked Zim gently. GIR looked at him.  
  
"GIR? Are you OK?" Gir paused for a moment, then nodded his head.  
  
"Does it hurt anymore?" He asked, concerned.  
  
"No," said GIR, "But I'm sleepy." Zim smiled. "I'm not surprised. That replacement wire will need some finishing touches before you're be back to full capacity, but you'll make a full recovery." Zim stood. "Now sleep." GIR complied, and Zim covered him with the sheets.  
  
Walking out into the living room, Zim began to examine the UTC more closely. This was this first time it had acted up. And there was a small flashed light on it, which gave the appearance of something waiting to be heard; like an answering machine. Zim did not have the equipment necessary to open the message, and he knew that no one on the planet did. It must be important; the universal transmitter component was only activated if there was an urgent message that needed to be heard by all Irkins' – at home and abroad.  
  
He had no way to open it though – you plugged it into a special information processor that projected it on a monitor. Zim had nothing of the sort.  
  
But he knew where to go to get it.  
  
Zim stood, and grabbed his keys. He locked the front door as he left and climbed into his car.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
It had begun to rain. The windshield whippers moved lazily across the glass as Zim approached his destination. He parked the car, and pulled up his collar as he stepped out. It wasn't raining hard, but it was windy and cold. Zim's legs were going numb beneath his shorts.  
  
He walked down a few houses, and then stopped. He stood on the sidewalk, on the edge of cement framework for a basement in the ground. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his school jacket and just stared at the ground in-lays.  
  
They had begun to build a new house. The base was deep enough underground that the digging of a new foundation hadn't punctured the outer hull. It was strange, standing there. After seven years, at night, in the wind and rain, it felt alien to him somehow. There was no external sign of what lay beneath; no upper chambers, no yard and no gnomes. It was completely transformed from what it once was, and he guessed it was for the best.  
  
But nonetheless, he had to get down there. There was one conceivable way in and it wasn't nice – there was an emergency, secret exit, just in case the humans found out about him and he needed to escape undetected. It went from the lowest chambers of the base, to a sewage runoff pipe some hundred feet down. He would have to go down into the sewer, find the entrance and force his way inside. The door was probably barricaded with debris from the blast, and maybe even welded together from the intense heat of the blast. Radiation wasn't a problem; immunity to it was an Irkin trait he hadn't lost.  
  
Zim walked out into the middle of the caldasack and began the strenuous work of prying off the lid. He used the flashlight he had brought as a crowbar, and finally managed to remove the manhole cover.  
  
The stench hit him like a punch in the face. He had to pause and cover his mouth so he wouldn't vomit. Finally, after weaning himself onto the smell, becoming somewhat used to it, he descended into the dark depths of the sewer.  
  
He pulled his shirt collar over his face and shined the light down the gaping maw of the pipe. He could hear the sewage running past him and could see rats skidding across the small walkway. He carefully walked down, hearing sounds from beneath his feet but not looking in fear he might give up and return to the surface. He had left his coat up top – it was too bulky and he might not be able to fit through the opening that was ment for his smaller self if he wore it. And it wasn't cold; in fact it was sickeningly warm. He continued through the pipe praying the entrance was close.  
  
He reached a stairway that went down a few steps, following a waterfall of sewage, and then turned to the left twenty feet up from where the sewage hit bottom. He walked along the edge; one wrong move and he would plummet twenty feet into human waste and rain runoff.  
  
He walked on, and was at the point of turning back when his hand that had been scanning the wall came to an opening. He looked, and sure enough ten feet back was a small vault-like door. He had to crawl on his knees to get to it, and it wasn't pleasant, but he hadn't come all this way not to go a little further. He sucked it up and began to crawl down the small opening.  
  
He finally reached it, and held the flashlight in his teeth as he tried to open the door. At first it wouldn't budge, and a terrible thought came to him: what if the computer had welded this door shut when it was commanded to seal all exits? It was entirely possible, but he prayed that it wasn't. He almost collapsed in relief when it began to turn.  
  
Stepping into the first entrance chamber, Zim locked the door behind him. The door resembled that of a submarine in that it opened and locked with a wheel you twisted. He headed to the internal opening door and began twisting the wheel.  
  
He heard the lock disengage, and slowly swung it open. He felt the radiation pass over him as he entered, and for a second felt nauseated, but it soon passed. He stepped in, stood up, and gazed at what had been.  
  
The lab was completely ruined – like someone had smashed, and then taken a match to everything. Zim searched for the right monitor to plug the component into, and hoped that when he found it, it would work. First, however, he needed power.  
  
He walked up to the main computer, but found it would be of no use since the control panel had been impaled by flying debris. He walked across the chamber, stepping over pieces of wrecked equipment, to the fuse box and opened it. He searched for the emergency power switch, found it, as pushed it up. Miraculously, lights began to flutter up and he could hear electricity running through the machines once again.  
  
He finally came to it. There was a crack down the middle of the screen, and some of the controls had been melted off, but the port to plug in the UTC seemed to be OK. He brought the component out, inserted it into the port, and pressed all that was left of the 'On' button.  
  
The screen flickered, then when white. The colors where warped around the crack, but Zim could still make out anything projected under it.  
  
Suddenly the Irkin symbol appeared – red on black background. It then dissolved to reveal the two tallest, side-by-side at a desk, fingers interlaced in a gesture of superiority. How he loathed them. They had sent him hear to die. They had disposed of him and never thought twice. He wished they were here in person so he could strangle them.  
  
"Hello, Irkin brethren," said Red with a rehearsed smile. "We have sent this message to announce the success of operation: 'Impending Doom II'. Just recently, the last battlefront surrendered, making the Irkin Empire the unopposed ruling entity of the universe."  
  
"We," began Purple, "Will take full advantage of this, and continue to conquer planets at our current rate. We will clear suitable planets to house our own kind and build a stronger military. This effort will require the full force of the Irkin military." He said, using his hands for emphasis. "We will expect every Irkin abroad to report back to the home planet, in order to regroup for reassignment. A military occupation force will monitor the already conquered territories. As for our expansion, the following sectors will be assigned for domination." A list of serial numbers scrolled up the screen in a column. There were a lot, and they went by too fast for Zim to really read any. When they were done, Red spoke.  
  
"As for the remaining sectors, they will be exploited of all natural resources because they bear no other purpose or value. The following sectors are to be immediately parched of needed materials." Another list went by – this one slower and shorter. There was a list of six, and on the fourth one Zim went pale.  
  
Purple: "Any other information will be given at reassignment. For immediate info on when the occupation forces will be arriving, contact the central intelligence bureau on galactic extension 78693."  
  
"Thank you," said Red, his face turning blue directly underneath the crack in the screen.  
  
"And good night, my fellow Irkins." They both smiled stereotypically as the screen went black.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim's mind raced. After he had heard the message he had hauled ass back up to the surface and emerged into the whether. The mild rain had progressed into a full-blown storm. Rain hit the ground in buckets and wind ripped through the trees with tremendous force. He struggled to open the car door against the forceful wind.  
  
Once in the car, he turned it on and floored the gas pedal.  
  
They were coming. There was no stopping them. He had to make a choice, and he had to make it fast. Zim raced out of the caldasack and to an intersection.  
  
Left or right – those were hit only choices. He rapped his fingers rapidly on the steering wheel as hit head wiped from one direction to the other. Rain slapped the windshield forcefully, like a firehouse was being sprayed at the glass. If Zim were not drenched from the downpour you would see that he was sweating.  
  
He was faced with a decision of great importance. Go one way, and drop out of skool, pack up his things and wait for the armada to show up. They would be greatly disappointed when they found him alive. If they didn't kill him when he showed up they would surely send him on another no-name mission. But he had a chance, and he would be going home.  
  
Go the other, and alert Earth authorities, do all he could to defend this world and fight in an almost pointless fight against the most powerful Empire in existence. He might not even be believed, and spend the rest of his days locked away or secluded in his house. But there was a chance – a small one – that he could prevent the Earth from total annihilation. Maybe strike a deal or something. But the chance was slim.  
  
He had to decide. He had to make the biggest choice in the world – to help the Earth, or to go home. He knew that his decision would affect the lives of billions universally. That his choice would make or break the Irkin Empire. That his selection would be the definitive factor in the fate of the universe – and that it was his decision alone. He gripped the steering wheel and took a long, hard, mental look at his life. Then, with the last bit of doubt leaving him, he turned the wheel to the right.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim screeched into the driveway and slammed the car door as he got out. He walked up the walkway, and pounded on the door in front of him. The door swung open and Dib's head popped out. "What do you-"  
  
He stopped. Zim stood in the rain; his blonde hair drooped over his head with moisture. Water fell from his face and off every corner. He was soaked, and he had a look on his face like he had aged twenty years.  
  
"They're coming." 


	4. Realizations Gone Awry

Disclaimer: I don't own Zim dammit! I own nothing!  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
"What do you mean, 'They're coming'?" Asked Dib as Zim forced his way in.  
  
Dib protested as Zim dropped his soaked jacket onto the floor and sat down in a chair. Zim glared up at him. "I said that they're coming. The Irkins', they're coming to exploit the Earth and destroy all who inhabit it. We don't have much time, we have to do something."  
  
Dib took a minute to gather himself. He put his hands on his hips, then, thrusting one of them at Zim: "YOU'RE an Irkin!"  
  
Zim became frustrated. "There's no time, man! I'm trying to help you and your kind avoid total inihalation. If you don't listen to me, and we don't do something fast the entire planet is going up in smoke! For God's sake we have to put our petty squabbles behind us and act NOW."  
  
Dib's eyes went wide. "Petty squabbles? Have you forgotten that you're trying to TAKE OVER THE WORLD! You call that a petty dispute?!"  
  
Zim sprang up from the chair and got in Dib's face. "Compared to what's going to happen? Our feuding looks like a fight over the remote." Zim backed off and used his hands for emphasis, much like Purple Tallest.  
  
"What I'm talking about here is the destiny of the universe."  
  
"No." said Dib firmly. "I won't fall for it. You're just waiting for me to let my guard down and then kill me in my sleep or something. You're a plague upon this Earth Zim, and now you want me help you destroy it."  
  
Zim became enraged, was going to hit Dib, but then stopped. He realized that striking him wouldn't accomplish anything. Zim lowered his hand and sat back down.  
  
"Dib," He said, and ran a hand through his false hair. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before in my life."  
  
Dib was a bit taken a back. "What?"  
  
"I said, so that you will believe me, I will tell you something I've never told anyone." Zim motioned with his hand. "Sit." Dib obeyed.  
  
Zim sighed, and whipped his hands over his face. "What I'm going to tell you is very personal. It is also the truth. I hope you will take me seriously, and I hope your perspective of me will change enough so that trust can be established."  
  
He leaned back. "This might take a while, so if you have to go to the bathroom, go now."  
  
Dib shook his head. Zim nodded, and took a deep breath as if preparing to submerge for a lengthy period of time.  
  
"OK." He said.  
  
"It all began on the home planet of Irk, where Irkin babies are born without parents and into their professions. I was born this way into the military, and until seven years ago, had never lived outside the strict regulations that govern the Irkin military life. I was raised from birth to be an efficient, cold, killing machine that could conquer worlds from the inside, and bring them to their knees before the empire. And for a while that is exactly what I did. I wasn't just good, I was great. I brought hundreds of worlds to their doom – and I worked alone." Zim relished the memory as he brought it to the surface.  
  
"I was revered as one of the great conquerors, despite my height. Oh, on Irk, height equals respect and leadership. Despite the fact that I was shorter than average I was promoted above officers that dwarfed my size. I was just several steps away from the tallest themselves… But then I got cocky," He grimaced at this memory.  
  
"I was put in charge of Operation: Impending Doom. My head of course, ballooned at this, and my arrogance blinded me from what I was doing. Somehow the coordinates of the target planet got confused, and I ended up decimating half my own home world. I was banished immediately – to the inane food supply planet of Food Courtia. Exiled to a life of making and shipping food to conquerors not fit to do my laundry." Zim paused, as though it was very hard for him to say.  
  
"I lived like this for several years, until Operation: Impending Doom II was announced and the great assigning was scheduled. I had to escape the vacuous living situations on Food Courtia – so I snuck aboard a supply ship destined for Conventia. Once there, I hid in food crates that were to be sent to the luncheon after the great assigning. They arrived, and I made my way to tallest by means of force. They – and just about everyone else in the convention hall – were shocked to see me. How had I escaped exile? The tallest were furious, but knew that to deny an invader of my former caliber would cause civil unrest, and possibly another revolution, them having just won the last. So they tricked me – they sent me to an unheard of planet, somewhere in sector 4579. They explained the lack of info on the planet, as the mission being secret. I, blinded by my own ego, believed them and took off for this mystery planet – which turned out to be Earth. They sent me to die, but I survived. I'm sure they were enraged by the fact that I had defied them once again," Zim gaze Dib a look, "-So they must have been THRILLED when my base erupted seven years ago. It was an accident caused by a nuclear weapon I designed myself, on the surface of your moon. But thanks to some faulty insulation, it went off and destroyed the base. I was stranded! I had managed to save GIR and what was in my backpack, but other than that it had all been destroyed."  
  
Zim looked at Dib, who was intensely listening to everything he had to say. He was utterly fascinated. Zim continued.  
  
"That was seven years ago. Since then, I have changed my appearance, my way of life and opinion of Earth. I eventually figured out I was considered a joke by the Irkin government, and gave up all hope of them coming to save me. I stole and tricked my way into everything I own. I have managed to avert authorities and route YOUR efforts to flush me out. So far, my life here on Earth has been simple and almost completely trouble free. GIR and me have managed quite nicely and everything was going fine – until he called me after the game today. He was in pain. I got home to discover a component in his CPU was acting up. I removed it, and found it to conceal a message from the Tallest. In the message, the tallest express how Operation: Impending Doom II was a complete success, and how they are the unchallenged rulers of the galaxy. They command every active Invader to report for reassigning, so that they can proceed to pillage the universe. This sector – 4579 – has been marked for exploitation of natural resources. In not very long, the killer squads will arrive, to kill anything alive on the planet. After everything is dead, they will rape this planet of its water, minerals, natural gas, coal, uranium, and anything else of use to them. Then they will sell the Earth's empty shell to the planet jackers so it can be burned as kindling in their dying sun."  
  
Zim took a deep breath; let what he said sink in, and then looked at Dib. Dib was covering his face with his hands. He moved his hands down, so that they just covered his mouth, and stared into space with disbelief.  
  
"Oh my God…" he said so softly it was barely audible. He got up and began to pace around the room. "Oh my God." He said more firmly, one hand still over his mouth.  
  
Zim sighed and leaned back. Dib would not stop pacing, and it was making him nervous. Zim decided he had better speak up if they ever wanted to save the world.  
  
"That's why I need you," said Zim, trying to draw Dib back into reality. "That's why I need support on this because there is no way I can do it alone. You are the only person on the planet with the resources and knowledge to be of any assistance. I doubt we have no other choice than to work together."  
  
Dib finally sat down. He was about to say something when a voice interrupted.  
  
"I'll help." It said. They both turned towards it.  
  
Rolling out from behind a doorway was Gaz. She looked at Zim like she was on the brink of tears. "I heard the whole thing. About your life, about the end of the world; everything. And I want to say, that I'm behind you one hundred percent."  
  
Zim was stunned. "Gaz, I…" He trailed off. He dropped his arms at his sides and gave her a look of defeat.  
  
"Gaz, I'm sorry didn't tell you sooner. You're…you're my best friend and it was difficult to tell you that my life was a lie."  
  
She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"How could you have told me? And even if you did I probably wouldn't have believed you. Zim, don't worry about it. We have bigger fish to fry."  
  
She let her hand drop and they both looked at Dib.  
  
"Dib?" said Zim, "What do you say? Do you believe me?"  
  
Dib clenched his fists at his sides and stared out the window at the harsh rain. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "I hate all thoughs things you just told me." He began, "You conquering worlds, killing entire populations. It the worst I ever imagined. I still think you're alien scum…" he slowly turned around. Suddenly, he thrust a hand at Zim. "But I believe you, and I'll help you defeat the Irkin Empire."  
  
Zim smiled a relieved smile, took Dib's hand and a truce was proclaimed. Gaz clapped sarcastically, an expert at breaking tension. She clapped a hand on each of their shoulders while their hands were still joined. "Well," she asked. "What now?"  
  
Zim looked firmly at both of them. "We prepare."  
  
Dib pointed a finger down the hall.  
  
"To the Lab!"  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
All three trekked down into Membrane's home lab. His main one was at work (no one really knows where that is) but even so, his one at the house was magnificent. Zim and Gaz sat in swivel chairs and Dib pulled down a projection screen. He crossed the room and turned on a projector, which hummed to life and displayed a chart filled with bullets of information. Dib grabbed a pointer and stood next to the projected image. He waited for them to pay attention before he began.  
  
"OK," he started. "This is what I know so far about the Irkins. Stop me if I get ahead of myself."  
  
Zim, his hand under his chin, nodded.  
  
  
  
"Alright. Computer; magnify."  
  
Zim had a fleeting sense of De Javoo. He ignored it. He watched as Dib pointed at certain parts of the screen, magnified, and explained his theories behind them.  
  
After about five minutes, Dib took a deep breath. "Any questions?" he asked, finishing.  
  
Zim raised his hand slowly, then took it down when Dib nodded at him. He paused a moment, then said:  
  
"What the Hell were you thinking?"  
  
Dib stuttered for words, then realizing he had nothing to say, closed his mouth in defeat.  
  
"Seriously!" said Zim, not sure to be angry or amused.  
  
"I mean COME-ON!" he got up and started prodding the screen. The screen was a 'smart screen', and Zim could manipulate it by touch. He did so as he hastily explained.  
  
"I mean look – this laser death ray? How could it possibly get that much fire power and still be accurate," Zim continued, dragging icons and graphics along the screen with his index finger. Dib occasionally tried to protest, but never got anything out.  
  
"- And this entire 'reverse vampire' thing just came out of left field." Zim said, make the final adjustments to the screen. He slowly put his hands on his hips, examining the work, then went back to his seat. Dib walked over, and stared in astonishment at the new picture Zim had made.  
  
"THAT'S a laser death ray." Said Zim. Dib stood in awe.  
  
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen…" he said. "It's geometrically perfect in every way. Even the cooling system is spectacular," Dib turned to mean Zim's tired gaze.  
  
"I've underestimated you." Zim just nodded.  
  
"So…" said Dib, not quite knowing were to begin. "What do we do Zim? I mean, you obviously know a lot more than me, so why don't you lead the discussion?" Dib motioned for Zim to take the floor, but he shook his head.  
  
"What I have to say is important, and I'm going to say in only once; This is the plan: Dib, find anything with firepower and take inventory. Then I want you to find us materials for making a spaceship-"  
  
"Spaceship!-"  
  
"Yes, spaceship. Mine was destroyed and our efforts will be for nothing if we can't approach them. Gaz, I want you talk your dad into helping us with construction. I can design it, but I don't have the engineering or manual skills necessary to actually MAKE it. And also ask him if he has any anti- ion cells."  
  
Dib stopped him now.  
  
"Anti-ion? That's antimatter!"  
  
Zim just stared in aggravated confusion. "So?"  
  
Dib stumbled before he found the right words to convey the concept of 'antimatter'.  
  
"Antimatter will annihilate any matter it comes into contact with. And since we, and everything else around us is matter, won't the anti-ions' kill us and destroy the surroundings?"  
  
Zim narrowed his eyes in frustration.  
  
"They do come in a special containment CELL. That's what I said. And anti- matter will only destroy matter that comes close enough to aggravate it," Zim put his hands on his hips.  
  
"It's really very simple, don't talk about things you don't understand."  
  
Zim began to walk back upstairs. Dib stopped him.  
  
"What are YOU doing?"  
  
"I'm going back to what remains of my base to scavenge any piece of Irkin technology still usable. You two try to get those things I mentioned and contact your father." With that he hiked up the stairs and grabbed his coat off the floor.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim arrived, again, and immediately went back into the sewer. It wasn't pleasant, but he knew where he was going to it took less time.  
  
He wedged the door open, and slammed it once he was inside. Leaning against it, he pondered what was still good. He panned the room: decimated. All decimated. It was hard to believe that something had actually survived the blast. But nonetheless he had to find something. Anything that might help.  
  
Slowly, he began to carefully step around the debris. He went farther back into the base, through the labs and corridors. Even though the doors were supposed to be welded shut, some of them had been blown open, ripped away like tin foil. The curled and razor sharp edges of the doors still jut into the passage, making clearing them quite a task. But Zim managed to get around them with minimum cuts and bruises.  
  
He passed more doors leading to various other sects of the subterranean enclosure. More were still welded shut; which was a disappointment when Zim found the arms where house sealed. He swore softly under his breath and continued walking.  
  
The scenery didn't change much until he neared where the plastic explosives and other combustibles were held. He began to notice the floor and walls to become less conform and more like crumpled paper that had been opened again. A few feet down the laminate of the floor had been burned off. Zim's footsteps now made loud clapping sounds as they hit. The hallway became more and more wrecked until finally Zim spotted the source.  
  
The Explosive hold had been completely destroyed. The place where the door had been wasn't even recognizable, as the doorway had been blown away and impaled through the hallway wall. It was plastered so deep into the stainless steel wall that one could not decide where it started and the wall began. The explosive where house had collapsed in on itself. The roof had caved in, and everything was black from the intense heat. Everything must have gone off, thought Zim, every explosive down to the smallest grenade.  
  
He got around the decimation, and finally the hall became normal (well, as normal as can be after a nuclear explosion). He searched more, and was set on giving up when he passed the disposal room. He was several paces past it, before he stopped, and turned to look at it.  
  
Nothing was in there, he knew it. Just stuff he hadn't needed and threw away. But still, it couldn't hurt.  
  
He entered the room, nothing out of the ordinary catching his eye. There was the incinerator in the corner, and a pile of garbage next to it, waiting to be burned. He began the thankless task of picking through the pile, thinking hard about each piece of trash to consider its value. Surprisingly, he did find something.  
  
There were several power cells – all damaged – but possibly usable if modified. He spread his jacket on the floor and placed anything useful in it, ready to haul back up to the surface.  
  
He had picked out several power cell, some special spark plugs for a Vootcruiser, and an old blueprint for a prototype he had been working on. None of them had any immediate worth, but with a little creativity – and a little luck – they could help in the effort. He was about to pack up, when he came across something.  
  
It was oddly shaped, like a dome. Its bottom was mostly flat, with several holes. Zim turned it over in his hands, not knowing what it was, until he scratched away some soot with his claw. He froze when he realized what it was.  
  
A pink streak shown through like a fire through a dark night. It was his backpack, still in one piece.  
  
He had thrown it down after the explosion, down a venting hole. It must have landed and accumulated soot from the other trash. He could use this, oh yes. This would be very useful indeed. But it would only work with a host. It needed the constant energy a host body supplied, and without it, it would just be another piece of trash in the pile.  
  
Zim reached behind him with one hand, and felt the scares it had left on his back. There were three, in a triangle. One between his shoulders and two down an equal distance from his vertebra. They were puckered scares; evident from a deep wound. Zim remembered the pain he had felt as the probes had pulled out from his body. The pain was excruciating. It felt like his insides were being tossed in a blender, then ripped out. He didn't want to go through that again.  
  
Zim suddenly gasped as his thumb ran over a hole in the back of it. The end of a probe had been partially sticking out, and had pricked his finger. He looked at the dark blood begin to pool on his finger before sticking his thumb in his mouth. He had only just tasted his own blood when the machine began to move.  
  
The backpack had sensed Zim's energy when he had been cut. It began to shake on the small table where Zim had set it. The soot fell off as it shook, active after so many years. Then, the spider legs extended outward.  
  
Most Irkin military technology is installed with artificial intelligence. Like living things, they seek out 'food' and have a natural will to survive. The backpack, having sensed that a host was near, used what little energy it had stored coupled with what it got from when it cut his skin. In shaky but defiant strides, and backpack approached Zim.  
  
To stunned to move, Zim stared in horror as it leapt at him, landing and grappling onto him. He hardly had time to react when it positioned itself on his back, and shot out its probes.  
  
The probes broke Zim's skin and began to channel through his body. A blood- curdling scream escaped Zim as he collapsed to his knees.  
  
He screamed as the backpack dug its way through his rib cage, up his spine and through his intestines, seeking energy, and becoming more forceful as it gained it. Zim could feel his own warm blood spill out of him and onto the ground, in some instances, such a quantity fell at one time that a sickening splatter could be heard.  
  
Finally, the pack grafted tight against his skin and the blood loss stopped. As he stood, the back of his shirt and shorts clung to his body, saturated with deep red. He clenched his jaw tight from screaming again.  
  
As he straitened, the pain stopped. The pack had provided him with endorphins that numbed it. He felt, somehow, whole. Pain aside, the adrenaline that had been released sharpened his senses and made him feel lighter. The pain and anger he felt towards the tallest increased ten fold, and he clenched his fists. He could hear the skin tighten as he did.  
  
Nothing mattered, then. All that was there were THEM. They're faces hovered over his subconscious like an ominous cloud. He despised them with every fiber of his being. All of him was now focused on they're banishment – from existence.  
  
The top of his head suddenly felt hot and itchy. He ripped the blonde wig from his head, and looked at it.  
  
After a moment, he glanced over his should, cracking his neck. His antennae were suddenly alive, sensing the air frantically, as if awakening from a long sleep. He clenched his teeth and felt himself become reborn.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Dib stood in the middle of an underground where house, used by his father to store bizarre, and almost always-dangerous equipment. He held a clipboard in his left arm and used the other hand to jot down inventory. He had just wrote down 'high powered explosives' when the P.A. system activated and Gaz's voice came out over the speakers.  
  
"Dib," she said, sounding a little worried, "Come up here, Zim's back."  
  
Dib clutched the clipboard in his hand and ran up.  
  
After a lengthy elevator ride, Dib opened the door to the living room. Instead of Zim, he just saw Gaz, hugging herself and staring out the window. She turned, and answered his question before it was asked.  
  
"He's outside."  
  
Dib opened the patio door onto a roofed deck. Out at its edge, standing just under the canopy and next to the banister, was Zim. His wig was off, and his antennae stood slightly on end. He held his hands behind his back and stared out over the yard out into the city. Dib slowly approached as the rain hit the roof rhythmically.  
  
"I know what you're thinking," said Zim, before Dib could speak. Zim turned his head to glance over his shoulder at Dib.  
  
"You're thinking: What have I found? Well a few things of interest."  
  
Zim turned back. Dib glanced at the patio table and saw Zim jacket bundled up on top. It most likely contained what little he could salvage.  
  
"And I realized something," Zim continued, staring out, not looking at Dib. "I realized that I'm nothing in the grand scheme of things…" He bowed his head slightly.  
  
"That when it comes down to it; I've really had no impact on the destiny of the universe. But here I have a chance," he straitened.  
  
"I have a chance to defy an empire, and liberate thousands of worlds under oppression. Dib, if we can pull this off…" he paused for a moment, thinking, "Then we will go down in history as the universal saviors."  
  
Dib stood completely still, not sure how to take what Zim was saying. He was acting very strange – he was outside without a wig. If someone were to see him then his cover would be blown… but somehow that didn't seem to matter anymore.  
  
"I've had an epiphany, Dib," He said, turning to face him. It was then that Dib noticed that his contacts weren't in either. Zim gazed at him with a level, yet determined glance. Dib suddenly had more respect for him than he ever had.  
  
"I've seen the prophetic light, and know what I must do."  
  
He narrowed his eyes and looked out at the sky.  
  
"I must kill the tallest." 


	5. Prepare for Launch

Some Purple/Red action coming up – but nothing serious. Just enough to keep the plot moving. My first attempt of anything like that.  
  
Disclaimer: Me No OWN ZIM!  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
The Purple Tallest sat on his bed in the royal suit. Partially propped up by a pillow, he looked through some files on how the universal domination was going.  
  
So far so good, he thought, not much resistance from any front. It seems the element of surprise, coupled with overwhelming military force, was the perfect recipe for total domination. He sighed. It was almost too easy. He felt somehow… unfulfilled at their progress.  
  
Not to mention the premonition he was getting. Something about the sector lists… felt somehow familiar. Something struck him as he and Red were sorting them out. At first it was a gentle nagging, but it had escalated into a full-blown irritation in the back of his mind. Somehow it was prominent, he knew it. He had a meeting with the counsel the other day, and hadn't mentioned it, but now he wished he had. It was beginning to intrude on other matters–  
  
Purple gasped as he felt something brush his leg. He raised the files up over his head to see that Red, who was sleeping in his lap, had stretched and touched his thigh with his hand. Purple sighed in relief when he saw this. Red folded one arm over his chest, and laid the other flat on the bed, extended towards the headboard. Purple smiled and peered over the rims of his reading glasses. Red was inconceivably handsome while he slept. Purple had had time to change when he got back to his quarters, as he was in a bathrobe now, tinted various shades of violet. Red on the other hand, worked himself so hard that when he got back to had simple plopped down on the bed, rested his head on Purple's lap, and fallen asleep immediately. Purple wished he wouldn't do that. It couldn't have been good for him.  
  
Red's chest rose and fell as he took in breath and then released it. Purple was amazed that they had ever gotten together. It was risky and not a wise career move when you were in a high political position. But what the hell – they were the Tallest, weren't they? They could do whatever the hell they wanted. And no one in their right mind would blast them for it, or risk punishment.  
  
They nagging crept back into Purple's mind. He thought about all he had accomplished – the universal invasion, the good economy and his relationship with Red. He had an eerie feeling that it might be in jeopardy. Without knowing it he reached out and grabbed Red's shoulder, pulling him closer.  
  
"Mmm…" Red made sounds as Purple's sudden movement woke him. He lazily opened his eyes. "Well…hello there. What's with the sudden affection?" said Red, tracing the back of his hand over Purple's chest. When Purple just looked at him with fixed gaze, Red's half-linden eyes opened fully with concern. "Pur, what is it?"  
  
Purple suddenly snapped out of his reverie and put the files on the bedside table. "Um…nothing." He turned to pick up a novel to read, but stopped when he felt Red grab his other hand. He took off his glasses and faced him.  
  
Red was now sitting up, looking at him with a worried expression. He squeezed Purple's hand briefly before speaking.  
  
"Purple, what's wrong?"  
  
Purple tried to shrug it off. "I said nothing. I was just thinking and got… distracted." But Red wasn't buying it. He cocked an eyebrow and gave Purple a look that said, 'you can't lie to me, I can read you like that novel over there'.  
  
Damn you Red, he thought, damn you and your powers of penetration. I've been hanging around you too long.  
  
Purple sighed, figuring he might as well tell his lover and partner about what was on his mind. He leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms.  
  
"I just…" he trailed off a moment, to look around the room. "I just have this weird feeling. I don't know way but… you know the lists for domination?"  
  
Red nodded.  
  
"Well… something about one of the lists made my nervous. Something was just well, familiar about it. I had this huge feeling of De Javoo when I hit this one sector – on the natural resource list. It made me shiver, and I thought about all I would loose if this operation didn't go properly." He looked at Red.  
  
"That's what's bothering me. I know it sounds stupid, but I… well…" he sighed, feeling very vulnerable at the moment. "Worry."  
  
Purple didn't know what he was expecting from him, but what Red did was not it. Instead of consoling Purple, as he thought, Red leaned forward and kissed Purple gently on the mouth. His hand scaled up Purple's chest until it reached his shoulder, and pushed him down so that his head was on the pillow instead of his back. He broke their kiss and looked into Purple's eyes.  
  
"I'll always be there, you know that. And if anything does go down I'm not leaving your side. Why would you worry about something so obvious?"  
  
Purple stuttered for a moment, not finding the words. He finally just sighed. "I don't know. But I do."  
  
Red smiled out the side of his mouth hand kissed Purple again. Purple finally submitted, wrapping an arm around Red's neck and responding with his lips. Red commanded the lights off in the brief moment he moved from Purple's lips to his neck.  
  
The lights went off and the blinds moved back, revealing a floor-to- ceiling, wall-to-wall window. Outside, the Irkin city was alive with light and movement. Purple gazed at it in a sense of awe before gasping as Red latched on to his neck. Red remained there a few moments, before releasing and nuzzling Purple. He sighed and laid there, his head on the spot between Purple's neck and shoulder. He held Purple's opposite shoulder in his left hand. Despite the fact he was lower on Purple, the position was dominating. He spoke softly, as Purple stared up at the ceiling.  
  
"I love you, Purple."  
  
"And I love you."  
  
"Why do you worry like this?"  
  
"I told you I don't know."  
  
"If you don't know then why are you frozen under me?"  
  
Purple realized that his entire body was tense. He tried to relax but it didn't help much. He finally he let out a sigh. "I guess I'm just not in the mood, right now." Red growled in mock frustration.  
  
The nagging was back. Purple slowly slide out from under Red, and stood at he window with his hands clasped behind his back. Red gripped the sheets where Purple had been.  
  
Staring out into the city, Purple felt a sense of tired curiosity. What was their purpose in life? The dominating, the expansion – did it have a point?  
  
I and the ones before me had strived to build this city, he thought. All these people going about their lives… do they ever wonder? Do they ever worry about what lies ahead? No. All they can see is the next battle and the next win. That's all that matters to them. They're perfectly content with being on the winning team, and never questioning.  
  
He couldn't remember the last time one of the counsel members had objected to one of his or Red's decisions. He sighed deeply as he pondered the spineless 'yes' men.  
  
Red got up and walked towards him. He slid his arms around Purple's waist and rested his head on his shoulder so that his lips just barely touched Purple's neck.  
  
"Come back to bed," he said softly. Purple just sighed. He might as well, but not as Red implied. "Fine," he said, giving in. "But you're not getting any."  
  
Red chuckled as Purple pulled away from him and slipped under the sheets. He followed suit and snaked his arms around Purple.  
  
"I'm serious," pushed Purple, "Not now."  
  
Red chuckled. "I know, I know." He kissed the back of Purple's neck, then pulled him closer and settled in. "Now, sleep."  
  
Purple though of protesting, but finally just got comfortable. He was too tired to battle and the closeness did feel good. After a few moments, he felt Red's breathing achieve the slow, deep rhythm of sleep. And after a few more minutes, he felt his own eyelids become heavy until he fell unconscious.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
Dib lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in thought. The early morning sun splashed through a glass on his bedside table and shot little rainbow around the room. Dib had been up all night working with Zim and Gaz. About an hour ago, just before dawn, him and Gaz said that they had to sleep. He could hear her snoring across the hall, because both her and his doors were open. He, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.  
  
Zim had refused to rest, even though his clothes were soaked in sweat and his mind was visibly frazzled from all the work and designing. He was driving himself so hard. He must hate those 'Tallest' people so much, thought Dib. Only hate pushes an intelligent person like Zim over the edge.  
  
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and turned his head towards the door. He saw Gaz's hand hanging off the edge of her bed, and the various band posters hanging on her walls. His view of this was intercepted when Zim passed in front of him and walked into her room. He walked past her, to the twin bed across the room. He then fell face-first onto the bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  
  
Poor Zim, thought Dib. He used to loathe every fiber of his being, but now he was seeing a side of Zim he wouldn't have guessed existed. As he watched Zim sleeping, after an almost endless span of time working, Dib felt the urge to help rise. He would try his damnedist to fight the evil, and to liberate both Zim and the human race.  
  
Dib wondered how much Zim had gotten done last night. He got up, and began to trek down the stairs.  
  
He yawned widely as he carefully stepped down the stairs. There was no light, so he strained to see the steps. He felt the floor level out under him, and searched the wall for the switch. He found it, and flicked it upward.  
  
At first the sudden light hurt his eyes, and he yelped. After rubbing his eyes, and cleaning his glasses, he slipped them back on looked up. And what he saw took his breath away.  
  
The ship, which had been little more than a metal skeleton last night, was almost done. The haul was almost completely attached, and the cockpit was already fixed with a glass windshield. The ship was modeled like a bigger Vootcruiser, made for several people on a long-term journey. Dib could see that the interior was not in, but that would be relatively easy compared to the framework. Through the windshield he saw no captain's chairs, or any other luxury features. But the ship itself was magnificent. Dib gazed up in utter amazement and wonder as his childhood dream of riding in a spaceship was being manifested before his eyes.  
  
Dib ran up the stairs and spun around the corner into Gaz's room. He then shook Zim to wake him.  
  
"Zim…ZIM!" Zim reached up with one hand and tried to bat whatever was waking him away. Dib pulled back while Zim lashed out, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "ZIM!!"  
  
Zim's eye's opened sleepily, as if they were carrying massive weights. "Wha…what?"  
  
"Its amazing! I can't believe you did all that in one night! I really underestimated you, I mean-"  
  
"…Dib…"  
  
"-I never thought an alien race could be THAT ahead technologically-"  
  
"Dib…"  
  
"-It's like I've woken up in some future-"  
  
"DIB!!!" Zim finally screamed. He shot up, and grabbed Dib by the collar. Despite the fact they were contacts, a malevolent fire burned deep in Zim's eyes. He raised his lower lids, and narrowed his brow as he grit his teeth.  
  
"Now listen," he began, in a soft tone that made Dib want to crawl into a hole and die. He could feel Zim's breath on his face. Zim's hands curled around Dib's shirt to tightly that it was hard to breath.  
  
"I have been working since nine o'clock LAST night. I designed, assembled and tested everything. I've been going on bitter coffee and adrenaline for over twelve hours. Now if you think I give a flying FUCK about what you have to say right now, you obviously don't know me as well as I give you merit for. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" He tightened his grip on Dib's collar.  
  
Dib nodded carefully. "Good," said Zim. He released his grip on him. Dib fell to the floor. He landed on his ass, and when he looked up, Zim was already back to sleep.  
  
Dib inched away, pushing with his heels. He got to the door and closed it. He felt that he had never been closer to death.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Gaz awoke to the sound of snoring. She raised her head to find Zim in the bed across the room, snoring loudly. She growled, picked up the pillow from beneath her head and flung it at him.  
  
It made contact, and woke him. He growled as he looked up at the assailant who had dared wake him.  
  
Him and Gaz made brief eye contact, before she sighed and bundled up the comforter under her head. Zim growled as he laid his face back into his pillow.  
  
Zim did not feel the need to lash out at Gaz. She had worked almost as long as him, and had hit him only because SHE was trying to get some sleep. He was still mad she hit him, but it was soon over with and he could resume-  
  
He caught a glance at the clock before he felt back under. It was already noon. He had slept three hours, but he couldn't sleep through the entire day.  
  
He tried to sit up, but his body wasn't cooperating. It was heavy with sleep, and exhausted from last night. He tried to get in the frame of mind that it was HIS body, and he could command it to do whatever he wanted. But Zim had learned long ago that human anatomy was very stubborn. Even his, that was just marginally human, was incompetent and would only bend to it's own desires.  
  
Zim finally managed to get an elbow under himself. He tried to get the other one up, and when he thought it was, he put more weight on it. This turned out to be a bad move, because as soon as the arm experienced the extra effort, it gave out. Zim rolled off the bed and landed with a THUMP on the ground.  
  
It wasn't as bad as it could've been. The pillow Gaz had thrown broke the fall somewhat. If fact, it was actually comfortable enough for Zim to slip back under. But he resisted, and after a few minutes, managed to stand up.  
  
At first it was shaky, but he managed to open the door and get down the stairs into the living room. After his blood began to circulate, he began to wake up more. He stretched as he found Dib sitting on the couch, watching a taped episode of 'Mysterious Mysteries'.  
  
Dib turned to face Zim. "Well good morning, Zim. Did you sleep well? I wouldn't want you to kill me or anything."  
  
At first Zim had no idea what he was talking about, but than a fleeting memory of Dib waking him surfaced, and he sighed in recognition. "As best as possible, currently. I need some food."  
  
Dib turned back to the TV and jut his thumb towards the kitchen. Zim followed in that direction and opened the fridge.  
  
There was nothing. The entire fridge consisted of some leftover beef, a half-eaten sandwich and an empty carton of orange juice. Zim grumbled and closed the door.  
  
He went to he pantry, but had little success. There was a can of tuna, but it had expired two years ago. There was a mousetrap in the corner, with a mouse skeleton caught in it. Zim closed the pantry and leaned against the counter, frustrated and tired. He sighed and combed his fingers through the blonde hair on his head.  
  
He was about to call to Dib, and order him out for food, when he spotted the pot of day-old coffee on the table. He stared at it hard, before running over and draining it of its contents.  
  
Dib looked over at Zim as he plopped down in a chair. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and for the longest time Dib thought he had gone back to sleep. But he finally spoke.  
  
"We need a plan." He said simply. Dib blinked, but did nothing else. "We need a plan in order to beat them. We probably can't outsmart them, and we sure as hell can't overpower them, so what can we do?" He told, more than asked. He whipped a hand over his face and then sat up. He looked at Dib levelly. "What?"  
  
Dib stirred uncomfortably. "I don't know." Zim got up and separated to blinds with his fingers, peering through the window onto the street. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Well we can mess with their information. Maybe they'll miss Earth altogether." Dib implied. Zim shook his head and continued to look out the window. "No. Even if they do miss Earth, they'll be back eventually. You don't understand the Tallest; they're set on conquering the entire universe. Eventually they will find Earth, rich in natural resources, and kill every living thing here. It would be delaying the inevitable."  
  
Dib looked down at the floor. "Well I guess that shoots down my idea of telling them that this planet has nothing of value. I thought that with all the pollution and human intervention, this planet would be pretty useless."  
  
Zim removed his hands from the blinds and placed them on his hips. "You only say that because you've never been to another world. Earth is pretty rich, considering. Useless compared to what it once was? Yes. Useless compared to everything else out there? No. This planet has huge deposits of natural uranium. Unrefined uranium is very rare around the home galaxy. They'll take readings of Earth before they make their first move, and by then they would have already sensed the massive quantity of it. By then it will be too late, because they'll fight for the planet no matter what."  
  
He sat back down. "We have to get to them before they're close enough to take readings. Only then will we have a chance to route their efforts. We must somehow convince them that Earth isn't worth the trouble."  
  
"But you said they were the most powerful Empire in the universe! How much effort could it take to conquer one small planet?" Dib asked. Zim was becoming angry at Dib's pessimism, but it was a logical question. He though for a moment.  
  
"We could exaggerate certain features. Like the depletion of natural resources, or the human population… But they've taken down tougher races than humans. Compared to a slaughtering Rat person, a human is a lap dog."  
  
"…Oh, yeah, thanks." Said Dib, crossing his arms. Zim shrugged. "It's true."  
  
They heard a noise from the stairwell, and turned to see Gaz coming down. She yawned and rubbed her eyes as she collapsed onto the couch. She put her feet up in Dib's lap, and he began to protest.  
  
"Get your feet off me."  
  
"No."  
  
"Gaz!"  
  
"What? It's my couch just as much as it is yours. Go sit somewhere else if I'm bothering you."  
  
"I was here first!"  
  
"Oh, Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
A fight began to ensue. He tried to push her feet off, and she kicked him. He tried to hit her, but she socked him in the stomach. This went on for a few moments until Gaz wiped out her switchblade, and pointed it at Dib's throat.  
  
"Gaz," said Dib in a whining tone, his hands shielding his throat. "Put that away, it's dangerous!"  
  
Zim had to laugh at the sibling rivalry. He was about to tell them to knock if off, when he was struck with a brilliant idea.  
  
Gaz kept the blade at his throat, and they began to bicker. Zim hushed them as the idea came to him.  
  
"Shh… You guys! I think I may have it," they turned their heads to meet him.  
  
"Dangerous," he said, nodding his head in thought. At first it was slow but it increased in speed as the thought materialized. "We could somehow convince them that this planet is dangerous. I mean, remember how horrified I was when I first got here?" He asked. Gaz nodded. "Yeah, like when I saved Dib's ass, and we went to Bloaty's? God, you ran so fast." She laughed and Zim smiled with a nod.  
  
"Exactly. And the water. This planet has rain, which will burn the skin of any Irkin that steps foot outside in a storm. I, luckily, have humanized my metabolism. If it weren't for that, than I wouldn't have survived that storm last night."  
  
"Don't forget our food!" ventured Dib. "Meat burns too."  
  
Zim got up and looked at them. "We'll have to hammer out the kinks later, but I think we may have a plan."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
Several hours later, down on the construction platform, the three gazed up in awe at what they had created. It was done.  
  
Zim stood in the middle, Gaz at his left, and Dib on his right. The light shone down on the craft like it was a divine creature. Evey curve, flat and crevice marked an achievement in engineering, and hope for mankind. They marveled at what alien and human alike had collaborated to make.  
  
"Wow…" said Gaz, a little breathless. There was a smear of grease on her check, and her hair was messed from the work. They had all done manual labor, despite the fact Dr. Membrane's robots had helped. The robots did heavy lifting, hauling and shaping, but they had to weld, maneuver, and test themselves. It had finally paid off, and the craft in front of them was magnificent.  
  
Dib was speechless. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. Zim smiled as he looked up at it. It was all he could have hoped for. This thing would fly, and that was good enough. It's interior and controls were modeled after his old Vootcruiser, and was modified to house three people for several months. It would be sufficient in their efforts.  
  
"Well," said Zim after the general impact of the craft had hit. "We will launch in two days. That gives us forty-eight hours to gather supplies, fuel, and to prepare for what lies ahead. You two should mentally prepare before we go, going on an extended journey like this can be nerve racking. Even for beginner Invaders."  
  
He began to walk away. "Wait!" cried Dib. "Where are you going?"  
  
"To pack," Zim replied without turning around. "I need to get ready too. I'm gonna be flying that thing. You two should each bring about a weeks worth of clothes, and anything that will remind you of home. This journey is going to be harder on you than me."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Zim twisted his key in the lock, and swung the door open. He saw the house was in disarray. He hardly ever cleaned, and GIR hadn't done anything thing since Zim had left him last night.  
  
Zim found GIR in the kitchen, looking for something. His head, which had been in a cereal box, popped out when Zim cleared his throat. Pieces of cereal flew every which way as he threw the box and ran up to Zim.  
  
Zim hardly had time to react before GIR leapt up and squeezed his neck.  
  
"HI MASTER! Where have you been? I can't get any food!" Zim took it that GIR had eaten all the food they had and was just bored because there was no more. He sighed and pat GIR on the back.  
  
"I missed you too GIR. Now come on, we have to pack."  
  
GIR looked at Zim. "Where are we going?"  
  
"We're going on a trip, GIR. We're going… home."  
  
GIR jumped out of Zim's arms and stood on the table, his arms up in the air. "YAY!" "NO, GIR!" Yelled Zim abruptly. GIR turned towards Zim. "We're not going back to live, we're going to fight. They want to destroy the Earth, and me, you, Dib, and Gaz are going to stop them."  
  
GIR just stood there for a moment. "OKAY!" he said finally, and ran off somewhere. Zim shook his head and walked into the bedroom.  
  
He grabbed his basketball duffel bag, emptied it, and left it open on his bed as he looted through his closet. GIR sat on the bed, kicking his feet, as Zim tossed various pieces of clothing into the bag.  
  
"What's gonna happen?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched Zim rummage through his stuff. "I don't know exactly, GIR. But let's take this one step at a time. We're going to pack, get ready, and then we're going over to Gaz's house to spend the night. From there we will prepare until launch." He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Do you want to bring anything?"  
  
GIR gasped, then latched on to the TV in front of Zim's bed. "Scary Monkey Show!!!!"  
  
Zim pried him off the screen and carried him out of the room. "Sorry GIR, no scary monkey for a while. You're just going to have to learn to live without any TV."  
  
GIR sucked in a long breath before he screamed. Zim quickly covered his mouth with his hand and dragged him to the door.  
  
"Come on, we need to go."  
  
He stood GIR up and began to dress him in his puppy suit. Zim had a feeling that he was a mom dressing his little kid up for school. He zipped the zipper up to GIR's chin, and then grabbed him by the shoulders.  
  
"Are you going to behave at Dib and Gaz's?" he asked. GIR stuck his tongue out in thought, then nodded vigorously and gave Zim a thumbs-up. "Good."  
  
He opened the door and ushered GIR outside as he pulled on his jacket. GIR reached behind his head, and pulled the puppy mask over him. Zim opened the car door, and they both hopped in.  
  
He started the car, and took what could be his last look at his house. He wondered if he would ever again have a lazy Sunday morning at home. Sitting in the living room, watching TV with GIR. The early light dancing over the walls and furniture, giving the entire room a relaxing, serine feel. Zim wondered if he would ever again experience that feeling of peace.  
  
He reluctantly put the car in reverse, and back out of his life. 


	6. Treason on the Western Front

Disclaimer: This is not a disclaimer  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm poor. Are you happy now?  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
"Engines."  
  
"Check."  
  
"Doors."  
  
"Check."  
  
"Visual clearance."  
  
Dib looked at the monitor briefly. "Check."  
  
All three were strapped down to their seats with 4-point safety belts. Gaz leaned back and gripped the armrests; Dib did the same except one hand manned a monitor. Zim leaned forward in his seat, hands almost crushing the controls. A trickle of sweet rolled down the back of his un-wigged skull as the engines were heard powering up. He grit his teeth and watched intently as the base doors rumbled open.  
  
The sky was a dark blue, fading into a sunset of pastels. Near the bottom of the doors, the sky was still bright; at the top of them lay a fait line of stars. Zim mentally prayed to the Irkin gods.  
  
Gaz, despite herself, made the sign of the cross over her chest. Dib clutched the collar of his coat closed with one hand while the other gripped the arm of the chair so tightly, that the upholstery was about to rip. He looked around frantically as the ship began to vibrate.  
  
"Um…Zim?" he asked wearily. His vision of Zim was distorted as his glasses jumped up and down on his nose. Zim sharply looked over his should at him. "WHAT Dib?"  
  
"Do you uh… think this is wise? I mean… maybe we should reconsider-"  
  
"Don't go soft on me now, Dib." Said Zim through his teeth as he sharply turned his head forward again. "This is the point of no return. If you back out now then you're in for a going to be sourly disappointed when the Earth is destroyed."  
  
Dib realized what Zim was saying, and immediately changed his mind. "You're right," he said as he braced for take-off. "Let's do it."  
  
The main engines switched on and the ship jerked forward a bit. All but Zim flinched at the same instant. They knew it was coming, and they knew it was their only chance to save the planet. All three braced.  
  
Zim moved his left thumb from around the joystick, to hover just above the 'launch' button. He moved his thumb in small circles around the perimeter of the button. He turned to face the two in back. "Are you two ready for this?" he had to almost scream. The engines were almost at full power, and the time for action was soon approaching. They both looked at each other, then nodded.  
  
Zim turned back to peer out the now fully open doors. Night was soon approaching, and they needed at least some daylight to navigate their assent. Zim exhaled and inhaled deeply, trying to keep his cool. Finally, after judging the moment to be right, he slammed down on the button with his thumb.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
The already loud engines screeched with power. The hull shook so violently Zim thought for one dreadful moment that it was not strong enough. But it held, and the ship suddenly shot upward.  
  
Zim was slammed back into his seat as the G-forces over took him. The base doorway rushed at him, then disappeared in an instant. The manifesting stars seemed to come at him with force as the ship plowed its way through the atmosphere.  
  
The assent seemed like an eternity, although it really only was a few moments. The stars rushed forward, and the perimeter of the windshield was turning red from the heat. Zim felt the sweat roll BACK instead of DOWN his face. He could not see the two in back but knew they were freaking out.  
  
They had broken the atmosphere; the ship had yet to stop. Zim tried to press the button that would cut off the engines, but it was no good, the G- forces were too strong. He tried again, straining to hit it. His hand inched its way up the control panel.  
  
Gaz felt like throwing up. The only reason she didn't was that if she did it would splatter back in her face. She felt wetness streaming back from her eyes, as the tears were ripped away. She strained to close them, but to no avail.  
  
Dib's glasses were pushed up to the bridge of his nose, smashed up between his eyes. The glass began to crack. First just a bit, then it began to spider out through the glass. It was if some skeletal hand was extending over his vision. He knew that if they didn't stop in a moment, it would shatter in his face and he would be blind.  
  
Not good.  
  
"Zim!" Dib managed to scream through clenched teeth. "STOP!"  
  
Zim's hand was almost there. Just an inch more and they would stop. Closer… closer…  
  
Gaz began to blackout. This was just too much gravity for her to handle. She felt consciousness slipping away…  
  
Dib felt a shard of glass hit beneath his eye. Any moment now, and he would be seeing black.  
  
Zim reached up splayed his fingers wide; in a desperate attempt hit the switch. Finally, with the last of his strength leaving him – he just barely compressed the button.  
  
The ship immediately stopped. Zim, for the second time in three days, had the wind knocked out of him. The seatbelt dug into his chest as his body was hurled forward from inertia. This happened to the two in back also, because groans could be heard from in back. Zim took off the seatbelt and crossed his arms over the control panel, burying his face. He rested for a moment, then called, "You guys OK back there?"  
  
He was answered by more groans. "I think I'm down to an 'A' cup…" said Gaz. Dib began to cough.  
  
Zim turned around to meet them. Dib had taken off his glasses, which were cracked in many places. He rubbed a spot under his left eye where he had been cut somehow. Gaz clasped a hand over her mouth, then ran to the back of the ship. The muffled sound of vomiting followed.  
  
Zim rested his elbows on the panel and massaged his temples. He had probably miscalculated the G-force of the ship, coupled with air- resistance. But it could have gone worse. He looked up through the windshield.  
  
There was the Earth.  
  
It all its blue glory, it stood against the black sky. Stars were speckled about it, punctuating its beauty. Zim looked at it, and felt something he had not felt in a long time – Hope.  
  
Dib began to speak, but stopped when he saw Zim looking through the glass. He walked up beside him and followed his gaze. For a moment they stood there, taking in the sight. After a while Dib looked at Zim's face, and saw an expression he never thought he would see there.  
  
"Zim, you look like you're going to cry." Said Dib softly. Zim blinked, then sighed.  
  
"I just…" he trailed off. "Its just that from this angle… the Earth… feels like home." He bit his lips together. Dib put a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to meet his eyes. "We've got to save it." Said Dib with a sense of finality. Zim turned back to the Earth. A different expression filled his eyes and he gave a sharp nod.  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Two days before Zim would take off, Purple woke with a start. Sweat poured down his face and body. He had had a nightmare.  
  
He didn't want to remember what he had been dreaming about. Something about destruction and the end of the universe, but even that was slipping away as he thought. The only thing that wasn't disappearing was the sense of dread and hopelessness that had been consistent throughout the dream. He hugged himself and shuddered.  
  
Yellow light streamed in the large open window. The Irkin sun had recently risen and the room warmed with it. The picturesque scene of the light coming in would have on any other morning, cheered him up. But right now it did nothing lighten his mood.  
  
He got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. He wanted to take a liquid shower, eat breakfast and then go to his meeting. He did not want this to be an eventful day. After the meeting he would probably meet Red for lunch, then spend the rest of the day in his quarters killing time. He needed to relax so that the premonitions would not get the better of him.  
  
He flicked on the bathroom light. It was a large bathroom, made especially for the rulers of the Empire. In it were two showers, a toilet, several sinks and a Jacuzzi. In front of the Jacuzzi was a large viewing screen, to watch movies or programs while bathing. Both Tallests had gotten a lot of use out of the Jacuzzi; whether alone – or together.  
  
Purple made his way to the shower, but stopped in front of the mirror when something caught his eye. He turned towards the mirror, and pulled back the collar of his bathrobe to find a dark circle just above his collarbone. He knew what it was immediately and became angry. "Dammit!" he said loudly and stormed out of the bathroom.  
  
He found Red on the kitchen balcony, sitting and drinking the Irkin equivalent to coffee. He cleared his throat and Red turned towards him.  
  
"What's the matter with you?"  
  
"WHAT'S the matter with ME? I'll tell you-" he said as Red approached him. He pulled back the collar of his robe. "THIS is what's the matter with me!" Red bent lower to inspect the blemish. He realized what it was, straitened, and smiled nervously. Purple became even angrier.  
  
"That's it? Nothing to say for yourself? How am I supposed to walk around in public like this? Do you expect people just to ignore it like it was NORMAL for the most powerful being in the universe to have a hicky? I swear- " He sat down at the table. "Sometimes you just don't think."  
  
Red was momentarily at a loss for words. Finally he said, "It's not like you can't cover it up. I mean, why are you making such a big deal about this? It's not the first time this has happened…"  
  
Purple realized that he was right. Why WAS this such a big deal? Was he really that on edge? He tried to calm down. "I'm sorry Red, its not you, its me. I'm just a bit on edge today. But this," he motioned to his neck. "Really wasn't a wise move. You should think about your actions."  
  
Red crossed his arms. "Was that an apology? Excuse me if I wasn't calculating every risk while we were making out. I liked you better last night. You were vulnerable and seemed to want me for protection. I loved it; but now you're just bitchy. What happened to you?"  
  
Purple felt a swell of anger, but didn't' act on it. He calmed down and rolled his shoulders back. "I'm sorry Red, really. Things have just been a little hectic lately and I'm taking it out on you. Forgive me if I come off that way, I really don't mean it."  
  
Red became concerned once again. "Hectic? Everything has been going fine. The domination has been going off without a hitch, victories left and right, no resistance and major profits from the Planet Jackers. What could possibly be bothering you?"  
  
Purple gave him a look. "That? You're still worrying about that? Why?"  
  
Purple sighed. "I had a dream last night. I don't remember much, but what I do is distorted and scary. There was this sense of dread when I woke up. I'm surprised I didn't scream in my sleep." He shuddered. "It's just so horrible. Something's going to happen. We can't go unopposed forever."  
  
With that he left the table and headed back to the bathroom. "I should get ready. I have a meeting in a few moments." Red put his hands on his hips.  
  
"When was I to be alerted of this?"  
  
"You weren't. It's a family matter. It seems that one of my uncles has passed away and there's the will to be delt with – I'll be back shortly." As Purple walked towards the bathroom, he untied his robe and let it fall to the floor. Red's gaze locked on immediately and Purple knew this without turning around. "Fine, torture yourself, see if I care."  
  
He walked in and locked the door; obstructing any plan of Red's.  
  
After he was done, Purple walked out in a high-collared imperial robe. It did a good job of covering Red's little 'love-bite' and he stopped worrying about it. He straitened himself in a full-length mirror before walking towards the door.  
  
He pushed a button on the intercom. "Hello? This is Purple Tallest, bring the driver around."  
  
"Yes my Tallest!"  
  
He released the button and stood by the door, waiting. After a moment, he noticed Red looking at him with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Purple shrugged. "What?"  
  
"Nothing," said Red with a lazy blink. He smiled at Purple affectionately. "Just observing."  
  
Purple smirked. "Well would you stop? Its creepy." Red chuckled and walked over to him. He straitened the sleeves of Purple's robe, finally resting his hands on his shoulders. "Try not to worry so much. We've got a lot of things going right, which is more than we can say for most people. Its all a matter of prospective." He raised his brow. "Am I right?" Purple chuckled lightly. "Yes, you're right."  
  
Red kissed the spot on Purple's neck where he had last night, and the two briefly hugged. Red gave him a peck on the lips as the buzzer went off. "There's your ride. Say hi to your family for me."  
  
Purple snorted. "Don't wait up." And he walked out the door.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
A few hours later (in human time) Purple sat uncomfortably in a chair, facing his dead uncle's lawyer. The rest of his known family – his sister Pez, and her daughter Elize (Irkins were considered siblings if they were born to the same robotic arm within the time of 5 Earth minutes, which ment they were probably from the same DNA strain. Purple was exactly 3 Earth minutes older than Pez. Parents and offspring were only brought together on the rare occasion that a relative imparted both of with a share of the estate after passing away. This was only the second time Elize had ever met her mother.), his cousin Coaxe (pronounced: Co-axe) and his half-brother Blorch (half-siblings were 10 minutes apart) all sat around a desk at which the lawyer sat.  
  
The lawyer was the shortest one there, considering he was surrounded by a Tallest bloodline. Most of the small family held high economy status. Pez was a successful trader on the stock market, Blorch owned a chain of vehicle repair shops, and both Elize and Coaxe were in the military. Coaxe was a specialist in the air force, while Elize was a lieutenant in the army. Elize was taller than everyone there, save Purple.  
  
The lawyer twisted in his seat, visibly nervous from being surrounded by the prominent family. After offering them each a drink, he brought out five files, one for each family member, and began to walk them through the documents. They basically stated what property was theirs, how much money they would receive and so on. About halfway through the papers, a knock came on the door.  
  
Purple looked up at the two bodyguards behind him. "Answer that."  
  
One of them walked over and opened the door. Another of Purple's escorts stuck in his head. Purple turned back to the papers in front of him. "This had better be good."  
  
The bodyguard walked up to Purple, bent over and whispered in his ear. The family and lawyer watched as the expressions danced over his face.  
  
First he just stared ahead, annoyed at being interrupted. Then his eyes widened slightly and he put a finger to his lips in thought. Finally, he put down his hand and muttered, "Oh my."  
  
The bodyguard stood back up and waited for his response. Purple thought for a moment, then curled his finger at the guard, motioning him to come back down. He did so, and Purple whispered into his ear for a few seconds. The guard nodded periodically until Purple was done. He straitened, uttered a "Yes, my Tallest." and left the room. Purple taped the papers on his knee, straitening them, and reached for his drink.  
  
"What was that?" asked Pez. She leaned forward and gave Purple a questioning look.  
  
Pez was the only person in the universe (save Red) who would dare talk to Purple with such irreverence. She had the exact same eye color as him, evidence of their close genetic ties. She wore a dark red business suit, and black heals. Around her neck hung a thin chain of precious metal that from the looks of it, was only affordable to someone with upper tax bracket income. She uncrossed, then recrossed her long legs. "Well?"  
  
"Oh, some trouble on the western front," he said calmly, swirling his drink. "Dreadful business, universal domination." He took a sip, then smiled pleasantly at the lawyer. "Nothing that can't wait, please, go on."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
"So how are things?" asked Pez after the meeting was over. She cocked an invisible eyebrow and waited for a response. Purple smirked; she was purposely making him late. "Things are fine, Pez. You?"  
  
"Oh, you know. Well… maybe… you don't, being the ruler of the universe and all."  
  
He smiled. Siblings rarely met, let alone carry out relationships. It was a fluke that Pez and Purple ever did. Only after some moderate research did they discover that they were brother and sister. They had met shortly before he became Tallest. She had been his financial advisor, because she had made her entire fortune off her own decisions. She knew how to play the market like a grandmaster knew how to play chess. Ever fraction of a point could be calculated, evaluated and formulated into a sale before it rolled off her tongue. Pez herself, was the richest Irkin citizen in existence. Richer even than some Irkin dignitaries. The one accomplishment she had never been able to overcome, however, was to be known as someone other than: "The Tallest Purple's sister".  
  
"Supreme ruler… so how's that working' for ya?" She asked and smiled sarcastically. He let out a single, "Hah" and nodded. "Good, Pez."  
  
"How's Red?"  
  
"Red's good."  
  
"Great. Universal domination taking a lot of you two?"  
  
"A little, but we get by."  
  
"Well great. Personally, things have been a little strenuous, but nothing I can't handle."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. Actually, there has been a lot of pressure on buying more government bonds," she gave him a look. "Because of all the success in domination, many people want to invest heavily into the government."  
  
Purple shrugged. "Well that's good."  
  
"No, not necessarily. Things have been going good, yes, but this trend is not permanent. I mean, how long can the Irkin Empire go unopposed?" Purple shuddered inwardly. His sister had had the same premonition as him. They were concerning different things, but both got around to the fact that prosperous times would soon come to an end.  
  
"Sir!" said a bodyguard with a salute as he hastily entered the room. "The… situation has advanced!"  
  
Purple's eyes went wide. "WHAT? Damn. All right, we're leaving now. Pez – nice seeing you again." He gave her a peck on the check and then proceeded out the door. Pez walked out into the hall and watched as he left.  
  
"Phone." Commanded Purple, extending one hand. A small communicator was immediately put into it. He opened it with a flick of his thumb, and put it to his non-existent ear. "Home Base."  
  
"Processing…" said a prerecorded voice. "Found. Contacting Home Base, Tallest Purple." Purple put a hand on his hip and tapped the fingers rhythmically. His bodyguards encircled him as he walked down the corridor.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Purple walked aboard the 'Gargantuan', a large battleship. He had been transported there shortly after leaving the meeting, and in a matter of minutes was at the front line. Light tremors tore through the ship as he walked, so strongly sometimes that one of the bodyguards would have to keep him from falling. Purple opened a door with the wave of his hand and walked onto the Bridge.  
  
"Tallest Purple!" cried an officer, and the entire room put their hands to their foreheads. Purple saluted half-heartedly and walked to captain's area.  
  
Red was already there, gritting his teeth and staring at the large monitor at the head of the bridge. He was standing, and gripped the banister tightly.  
  
On the monitor was a planet, surrounded by battle. The usual peacefulness of space was scared by exploding warships and weapon blasts. At first Purple could not recognize the planet under the blanket of war, but after a moment he realized, and put a hand to his mouth in shock.  
  
"Is that-"  
  
"Yep," said Red, without taking his gaze from the monitor. "That's Food Courtia."  
  
The usually silver, and industrial planet was now barely recognizable through the mass destruction. Large cities could be seen as flaming sores on the surface, and some normal landmarks could not even be found, destroyed completely. Purple felt a swell of rage under the shock. "Who is responsible for this?!"  
  
"We've just had confirmation," piped up an officer, only his eyes visible over the collar of his uniform. "It's the Reaptarians."  
  
The Reaptarians were an insect-like race that had been conquered not long ago. They resembled large, flattened millipedes with sharp teeth. The monitor flickered and one of them – presumably the leader – replaced the battle on the screen. He saw the Tallest, and chuckled darkly.  
  
"Greetings my Tallest," he spat out mockingly. "SO glad you could join the festivities."  
  
"What have you done you fool! Do you and your kind have a death wish!?" said Red loudly. "We will not stand for such blatant acts of treason!"  
  
"Treason?" sneered the insect as he cocked an eyebrow. "We are betraying no one. On the contrary – we would be betraying our own kind if we did NOT do something. You Irkins think you're so big… conquering worlds ten-fold smaller than yourselves," He now pointed accusingly at the Tallest. "If you think you're so bad than why don't you challenge the Orpathians!?"  
  
The Orpathians (Or-pay-thee-ans) were a powerful human-esk race that all but completely dominated a universe parallel to their own. The Tallest and other Irkin intelligence officers knew of their existence, and also knew that it would be suicide to even attempt an overthrowing of that caliber. The Tallest were shocked that the Reaptarians even knew of them.  
  
"What? What are you talking about?" said Red unconvincingly. The insect snorted in annoyance. "We know you know of them, our leak inside your administration told us so."  
  
"Your LEAK?" cried Purple. "You're telling us that you got a LEAK into the Central Intelligence Bureau?"  
  
"Yes," said the insect smugly with a grin. "Not so impenetrable, eh?"  
  
Off to Purple's right, an officer began to sweat profusely.  
  
"The Orpathians have yet to provoke us," replied Red. The insect cocked an eyebrow and let out a rueful "HAH!"  
  
"None of the worlds you've conquered PROVOKED you!" said the insect angrily. "You have been fighting a cowards battle. Admit it!"  
  
Red was about to say something when Purple cut him off. "Enough of this. As it stands you have attacked one of our home worlds and this calls for severe action," Purple was becoming assertive. His eyes flared and his teeth were almost perpetually bared. Red looked at him with growing curiosity.  
  
"You have to the count of ten to surrender all troop unconditionally. If not, then we will take no prisoners."  
  
The bridge exploded into accusations. The Captain urged him to reconsider, political advisors and the on board press secretary begged him to think of the outcome; even Red was questioning his decision. Only the officer on the right, with the headset, stared intently on the radar screen in front of him.  
  
Before Purple had become Tallest, he was known as Beck, and was a soldier in the Irkin military. He had once been taken as a prisoner of war on the Reaptarian home world. For the equivalent of an Earth year, he lived as a POW on board various Reaptarian mother ships. While there, he learned a thing or two about Reaptarian life. But despite the fact he was best suited to make this kind of decision, they continued to protest.  
  
"No prisoners? Seriously do you-" the press secretary babbled on. Purple stole a glance of Red from over the heads of the others, and found that he was utterly confused. Nothing like this had ever happened, at least not in their administration. Red, too, had been a soldier, but he had worked on homeland security, and was never a POW.  
  
"STOP!" cried Purple firmly and held up both hands in defiance. Everyone stopped. Purple turned to Red.  
  
"Red?" he asked and looked at his partner. "Red, what do you think we should do?"  
  
Red looked around for a moment, before meeting Purple's gaze. "Whatever you wanna do, Purple, is fine with me."  
  
Purple smiled. "Then it's settled." He turned to the counsel in front of him. His fingers flew over the keys as he entered in coordinates. "When I hit 'one', I want all active ships to fire at these coordinates on the mother ship. Got it?"  
  
"Got it, sir!" cried the communications officer. Purple pressed a button, and the image of the insect was minimized, allowing the battle to be seen behind him. He stared down from the corner of the screen with contempt.  
  
"You wouldn't dare."  
  
"The hell I would." Purple leaned forward on the banister and stared deep into the eyes of the Reaptarian. "Ten,"  
  
Everyone on the bridge braced for 'one'.  
  
"Nine,"  
  
"No."  
  
"Eight,"  
  
"Stop."  
  
"Seven,"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Six, Surrender!"  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Five,"  
  
"Don't do this."  
  
"Four,"  
  
"You wouldn't!"  
  
"Three,"  
  
"STOP!"  
  
"Two,"  
  
"NEVER!!"  
  
"One," Purple bared his teeth. "NOW!"  
  
The blasters could be heard powering up. The Reaptarian mother ship appeared on the screen, shortly before a huge explosion emitted from its flank, where half the Irkin fleet had fired. The image of the lead insect went to static, and the bridge went silent. Red began to stir.  
  
"Purple, what-"  
  
"Wait for it," said Purple cutting him off and holding a hand in the air. A moment passed until an officer spoke.  
  
"Sir! The rest of the Reaptarian fleet has ceased attacking. It seems as if they are… surrendering."  
  
Purple smirked and crossed his arms. Reaptarians never moved without word from their leaders. The area of the ship he had ordered to hit was not one of vital importance, but it had held the communication equipment. Without the ability to transmit and receive orders, the Reaptarian fleet had come to a standstill.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Kain gripped the consol with one exoskeletal hand and pulled himself up to shoulder height with it. He glared ruefully at he monitor, which had gone to static. Curse you Tallest, he thought. The ship had shook violently and he was knocked off his feet as communications fell silent. Other members of his crew were struggling to their feet as well, pointlessly attempting to restore transmissions. He grunted and slammed a fist into the useless controls.  
  
The monitor flicked to life, and an image of the Purple Tallest appeared. The Reaptarian Bridge went still and watched the screen in terrified anger.  
  
"I know you can hear this, even if you can't respond," Said the Purple Tallest with the raising of one smug eyebrow. "It seems there is no need to blast your entire fleet out of the sky, after all. They are surrendering quite nicely, and I'm sure they will cause no trouble – for fear they will cause you pain," The Purple Tallest narrowed his eyes at Kain. You bastard, he thought, you blackmailing bastard.  
  
"Well that's it for right now, I take it your life support systems are quite functional and undamaged. A fleet will be there shortly to escort you to the home world." Purple smiled darkly.  
  
"Until next time, Kain. And there WILL be a next time."  
  
The screen went blank, and Kain screamed out in rage.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Purple clasped his hands behind his back as cheers rang through the bridge. Everyone was celebrating the victory; even if it was quick. Purple himself began to feel a swell of happiness at it.  
  
Red laughed as he watched the armada board the Reaptarian mother ship. He grabbed his fellow Tallest and squeezed him so hard Purple's feet left the ground. Purple laughed and hugged him back.  
  
No one knew that the two Tallests were together romantically, and on a normal day them hugging would have raised eyebrows. But hugging after a victory seemed like the most natural thing in the world. No one gave it any merit.  
  
After a moment, Red noticed the officer on radar. He was not celebrating like everyone else, in fact he hadn't really moved since the Reaptarian leader said…  
  
Red let go of Purple and looked hard at the back of the officer's head. He could now see that the officer was in fact moving – he was trembling. Sweat rolled down the back of his head and onto his up-turned collar. The tremors of his shaking caused his chair to move, and its sound grew louder and louder as the room went quiet. Both Tallests peered at him with realization, finally approaching him from behind.  
  
"Turn around, soldier." Said Purple simply. The officer made no such move. "About face, soldier. MOVE."  
  
The officer still remained still, as if catatonic with fright. He knew the outcome, and he didn't like it – no one ever did.  
  
"LOOK at me when I talk to you soldier!" said Purple a little firmer. The Irkin finally did; he wrung his hands and looked down at the floor. His face looked on the verge of tears. Purple and Red narrowed their eyes at the weasel.  
  
"You're the leak he was talking about, aren't you." Red stated, more than asked. The officer continued to look at the ground. "ANSWER me, traitor. Answer me or seek consequences even more dire than the one you currently face."  
  
The officer began to say something, inaudible beneath the frightened waver of his voice. Red was becoming angry.  
  
"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Speak up, miserable pawn!"  
  
The officer stuttered a few times before he could be clearly heard. "…Yes."  
  
"Well the rat can talk," said Purple ruefully. He spat out the words as if they had a foul taste. "What in the cosmos were you thinking? Do you know how many lives were lost because of YOU? DO YOU?" Purple leaned in closer, and the officer shuddered as if he was hit with something. Purple narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. "Look at me, soldier."  
  
Once again, the soldier made no such motion.  
  
"LOOK at me when I TALK to you. Do you have any common courtesy? But then again, I shouldn't expect anything civil from a traitor, can I?" Purple waited a moment, then grabbed the officer by the chin, forcing him to look him strait in the eye. He spoke in a hushed tone, as if what he was saying was not ment to be said aloud.  
  
"Do you have any idea the DAMAGE this will do to the Irkin people? How many of your BROTHERS and SISTERS were killed because of YOUR thoughtless and selfish action? Do you even comprehend the capacity at which you have delt a blow? Not to us, but the Irkin tax payers and the family of those brave Irkins who lost their lives fighting for what YOU came from? No. And that is what makes this so sad…"  
  
Purple released the officer, and he immediately reeled back like a sea creature that has been poked. Purple and Red held their hands behind their backs and for a long moment, staring at the coward. Finally, Purple spoke, breaking the stunned silence that had settled over the Bridge.  
  
"Execute him."  
  
"WHAT!" cried the officer suddenly, woken by the two cruelly rapid words. It was as if no thought had gone into the sentencing, just swift, on-the- spot justice.  
  
"You can't do that!" he cried as two guards hoisted him out of his seat by the arms. "You can't just – Hey!" the guards began to drag him off the Bridge. The door slide open silently as the three proceeded elsewhere. The (former) officer eventually lost his footing, and his heels dragged over the floor. His protests rang out, and could even be heard through the door for a time. But soon they could not be heard, and the Bridge become so silent you could hear electricity humming through the machines. As swift and final as marshal law. 


	7. Reminiscent of the Past

I'm sorry about the delay in updates, but I have been so busy you wouldn't believe. I'm in the play at school and I'm NEVER home. Well, play is over and I've completed the 7th edition of the IZ saga. Updates will be (or should be) much more frequent from now on.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Gaz lay in her bunk; reading and listening to Shirley Manson sing 'I'm Only Happy When it Rains' on her headphones. She put down her book and stared at the ceiling. They had been away from Earth for a week. Gaz had told herself that she would not get homesick; that at all costs SHE would keep her cool and remain levelheaded. But it was getting to her. Little by little she felt her control slip away. If they did not touch down somewhere soon she was libel to go stir-crazy.  
  
She swung her feet of her bunk and jumped down to the floor. She had chosen the upper one because it was the biggest, due to closet ending at the same height. The one below her was about a foot short, because there was a closet Dib kept all his clothes in. But her bunk went over it. Dib hadn't really minded, she was taller anyway.  
  
She landed silently on her socked feet and walked over to the small porthole of a window. She pulled the headphones down around her neck and stared out into the blackness of space.  
  
Earth was by now far out of sight. The sun, too, was not visible save the small speck of light over in the Eastern Sky.  
  
How Zim differentiated the compass puzzled her. She guessed it had to do with the galaxy, but she could only do that – guess. Zim was really the only one who knew what he was doing, she knew that. And no matter how hard Dib tried he could not keep up.  
  
Dib had struggled to comprehend what Zim told him about Irkin life and technology. But what little Dib could grasp was dwarfed by what flew over his head. Some of the concepts seem to contradict themselves, said Zim, and it takes a keen mind to know the difference.  
  
Gaz touched the bottom of the window, as if yearning for something. She wanted to go home. As corny as that sounded it was true. Tough old Gaz was getting homesick.  
  
She looked at the stars – so many of them. She could still hear the music emitting from around her neck:  
  
You know I love it when the music's black  
  
Why it feels so good to feel so sad…  
  
I'm only happy when it rains…  
  
That used to be her. The hard-ass beat-all take-no-crap survivor of urban living. Armed with her purple hair, badass car and heavy metal music she was a force to be reckoned with. But now…  
  
Now all that didn't seem to matter. This would truly be a survival of the fittest, separating the men from the boys; or in this case – the women from the girls. She would have to look deep inside herself and find if she had what it takes.  
  
Yes, she thought, I DO have it. I have to have it or else there are going to be about six billion disappointed people when I get home. I have to be strong… because no ones going to be strong for me.  
  
Pour your misery down…  
  
Pour your misery down on me…  
  
Pour your misery down…  
  
Pour your misery down on me…  
  
It's all about Gaz, she thought with a smile. It's ALL about this. It's all about proving you're more than a rocker stereotype and that you can be something else. That you can be something GREAT.  
  
She suddenly didn't feel so alone. She suddenly felt inspired, as if she had had an epiphany. And everything seemed right… everything seemed… grand. Her destiny was before her and she had this one chance grasp it, take it full on. A wise man once said: 'Some see it, some don't, and some… don't even want to…'  
  
Well she wanted to, baby. And Hell, she was going to get it. Nothing was going to keep her from her destiny. NOTHING.  
  
I'm only happy when it rains…  
  
Damn strait. And when it rains – it pours.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim, however, was not currently feeling the same sense of enlightenment Gaz was. He was instead, feeling frustrated. Nothing seemed to be right. The cosmological landscape had changed so much since he had last been out here. Some telltale signs he had used to navigate were by now gone, and he had to guess the right way to go.  
  
None other than the Irkin Empire now dominated planets that had been neutral territory before. It seemed as if the Tallest had turned on their old allies while their backs were turned. A Brutus for the modern ages, thought Zim bitterly, Cesar has surely fallen.  
  
He spread a star map over the consol and studied it. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and splattered near the key, distorting the scale. He whipped it away with the side of his hand and sighed.  
  
Suddenly, the computer spoke. "Incoming structure. Is a visual requested?"  
  
Zim straitened and looked at the screen. "Yes."  
  
The screen flickered, and in a moment something that looked like a spaceport appeared. Zim immediately recognized it, and his eyes went wide with joy.  
  
"IT'S SPULGE'S DINER!!!!!! IT'S STILL HERE!! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!!!!"  
  
Zim ran to the back of the ship, where he found Gaz and Dib in their bunks. Gaz was reading and Dib was asleep. Gaz saw him rush in and gave him a puzzled look. "Whoa, Zim, what's up?"  
  
He balled his hands into fists and began to jump up and down. "Its – its – its – its-"  
  
He couldn't even get it out. Finally Gaz slapped him, and he went still. He didn't talk for a while, and she pulled her hand back again, but he grabbed her wrist mid-swoop. "It's Spluge's Diner!! It's still here!" He began to bounce with happiness. "Gods, I can't even remember that last time I was here! It was so long ago!"  
  
He put his hands on his chest and bit his lip. "It's still here! Will wonders never cease!"  
  
During Zim's outburst Dib had awaken. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Wha? Zim, what is it?"  
  
Zim Smiled insanely, and for a moment, Gaz could see the old Zim shine through. "It's this 'diner' we've arrived at. Zim's all worked up about it. What's the big deal, eh Zim?"  
  
Zim took a deep breath in an attempt to regain control of himself. "We've arrived at Spluge's Diner. This used to be an old hang out of mine. Oh, I remember coming here after a successful invasion-" Dib cringed as Zim said that. "-and sitting down to a nice bowl of Spluge's Surprise Stew. Oh, it was SOO good. Spluge would come out and ask me how it went. I would share my story, about the invasion, and about the innumerable times I escaped certain death-" Zim smiled his egotistical smile and Gaz smiled to. "-and he would always tell me: 'That's great Zim, you deserve another helping' and serve up another bowl. Oh, those were the days…"  
  
Zim sighed. "Wow. I can't believe its still here. I sure would like to get some of that stew right now."  
  
Gaz stood. "Well why not? I mean, what's stopping you?"  
  
Zim stuttered. "Well, I mean, you guy's are here, and if anyone were to see me-"  
  
"But LOOK at you Zim! You've changed since you were here last. And what about us? We'll come with you."  
  
Dib ran to her side. "Gaz, I don't think that's such a-"  
  
"Quiet Dib! Sure, We'll go with you Zim. I mean, how bad can alien food be?"  
  
Zim sighed. "You have no idea." Dib tried to say something, but never got it out. He just shrugged and Gaz nodded enthusiastically. "Please!?!?!"  
  
Zim crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Fine," he said finally, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. "You can come. Hell, it will be good to see Spluge again."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
After the Food Courtia battle was over, the Tallest were returned to their quarters. Neither was in a good mood, and neither felt like talking. Both of them just sat next to each other silently as their chauffeured car brought them home.  
  
The door slid open, and Purple switched on the light. They walked in without so much as a word.  
  
Purple walked over to the bar, and poured himself a stiff drink. Red leaned against, then slide down the wall next to the door. He sat there, crouched, and stared at his hands in his lap.  
  
"You were right," he stated simply. Purple put down a large bottle of Irkin liquor and reached for another.  
  
"How could I have been so blind…" he went on. Purple swirled his drink.  
  
"It was bound to happen, but I just couldn't fathom it. It was…well…unthinkable to me…" He watched his hands as he wrung them. Despite the fact that they had won the battle, the mere occurrence of it had reminded them all of just how vulnerable they were to attack. The incident seemed to have a greater effect or Red, who blamed himself.  
  
Purple lifted his drink, which was just slightly under the size of a pint, over his head and emptied it. He slammed it back down so hard Red flinched. Calmer now, Purple began to stir two more drinks.  
  
"And you handled it like a pro. I mean, threatening the entire Reaptarian fleet? My god who would have made a move like that!" Red shook his head slightly in admiration. "Those were some expert battle tactics."  
  
Purple finished the drinks, and began to sip slowly on one. He put it down and leaned forward on the bar. He already had a slight buzz going, and he was a bit dizzy. He stared at the bar counter top as he spoke.  
  
"It was a bluff."  
  
Red looked up from his hands and inquisitively at his partner. "What?"  
  
"I said it was a bluff," he dropped one hand off the bar and glanced at Red over his shoulder. Red's jaw lowered slightly in astonishment. "You serious?"  
  
Purple turned back to the bar.  
  
"What would've happened if they didn't retreat?" asked Red. Purple shrugged and brought the glass to his lips. Red shook his head again. "Man, you're something else. You didn't sound like you were bluffing. Hell, I believed you completely, and I'm supposed to know you better than anyone else." He looked back at his hands.  
  
"I never could have done that."  
  
Purple finished off his second drink and put the back of his hand to his mouth. He had already consumed a large amount Irkin alcohol, and was struggling to keep it down. After a moment the fit of nausea passed, and he poured half of the remaining drink into his recently empty glass.  
  
"I'm beginning to think…" started Red once more, "That I'm not worthy to be a Tallest."  
  
"Don't say that," said Purple, more annoyed at the comment than worried. Red persisted.  
  
"No I'm not…"  
  
"Yes you are, don't be stupid."  
  
"But I was so-"  
  
"C'mon, you are so worthy." He picked up the two drinks and turned towards Red. He struggled to keep from wobbling as he walked towards his co-ruler, but he managed not to waver. He crouched down next to Red and extended a drink in a sort of peace offering.  
  
"Here."  
  
Red looked at the drink, then at Purple, and then finally took it. He took a sip as Purple sat next to him, and almost spat it out. It was inconceivably strong, and he guessed it was mostly strait liquor. He could detect no flavoring.  
  
Purple, however, was almost done with what would be his third. If one thing could be said about Purple, it was that he could hold his liquor. He could remain coherent while most would be vomiting their guts out. Red, despite the horrid taste, continued to drink.  
  
Red traced his thumb around the rim of the glass. It was of fine quality, custom made for him and Purple. The light reflected brilliantly off its neck and base, illuminating his palm. He sighed as he watched Purple drain his of all contents.  
  
"That can't be good for you." He said without looking at him. Purple smiled, his mouth still full of liquid, and then swallowed. He stood, shakily at first, but then stabilized. He looked down as Red with drunken affection.  
  
"Have a bit more confidence will ya? You're depressing me."  
  
"You sure that isn't the drinks?"  
  
Purple let out a single "Hah!" as he flung his head back. He looked back at Red and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, it's definitely you."  
  
Red smiled sadly and sighed deeply. Purple growled.  
  
"Snap out of it."  
  
"I don't think I can."  
  
Without warning, Purple threw his glass across the room. It hit the wall just next to the bar, and the tiny bit of remaining alcohol stained the paint as the glass shattered. The broken shards hit the carpeting and several bounced a few feet away from the wall. They both just stared at the spot where it had hit for a few moments, and sound of its impact still fresh in their ears.  
  
Red turned to look at Purple. "That glass was two hundred credits."  
  
"I'll buy you another one."  
  
Purple faced his partner, hesitated, then extended his hand towards him. Red just sat motionless.  
  
"C'mon."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just take it, OK?"  
  
Red hesitated, then put down his drink and took Purple's outstretched hand. Purple pulled him up, and immediately they embraced. Purple put an arm around Red's neck, and kissed him on the lips. At first Red didn't respond, but after a few second he began to. As they progressed, Red found himself becoming hot. He wanted Purple more then he had ever wanted him. This was more then just lust this was NEED. He felt as if he NEEDED Purple at that moment. To forget his insecurities and simply give in. He gripped his shoulders and kissed him deeply.  
  
Eventually, they found their way to his bed, and crashed there. Red put Purple's legs around his waist and looked down at his lover.  
  
"You know, you're surprisingly sexy for a drunk."  
  
Purple grabbed the back of Red's neck, pulling their faces a few inches closer. "Shut up, Red." He commanded simply, and brought their mouths together.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
After landing, they opened the doors of the ship. At first Dib was worried about them all being sucked into the vacuum of space, but Zim explained that the diner was surrounded by an air force field, so that they would be able to breath. Dib hesitantly complied.  
  
They stepped out, and the first thing they noticed was the sky. There were stars as far as the eye could see. Zim said that the lack of an atmosphere made almost everything visible. Dib was really nervous and wouldn't step off the ramp of the ship.  
  
"It's OK Dib," said Zim. "Just imagine we're on Earth, and its night."  
  
Dib did, and after a while it didn't seem so bad. The hoax that it was Earth worked – that is, if you ignored the fact that the ground ended about 300 yards away.  
  
They walked towards a building, that was surprisingly diner looking. It was one story, with window in the front so you could see the diners eating. None of the aliens in the window resembled Zim, and this worried Dib.  
  
"Zim, none of these…things… look like you. Why?"  
  
"These are aliens of the worlds the Empire have conquered. From the looks of it, Spluge's Diner has changed a lot since I've been here. Watch your back when we walk in – and stay close to me."  
  
As the neared, Gaz noticed a neon-looking sign above the double doors. It was at an angle, and Red symbols were illuminated. The writing was foreign, but she guessed it was the diner's name. She followed the other two inside.  
  
Zim opened the door and they all stepped inside. Neither one of the aliens inside looked at all friendly. Most had weapons slung about them, keeping them close as they ate. Slowly, as the three took their seats at the counter, all heads – or the equivalent – turned towards them.  
  
Zim began to order, but stopped when he heard the shuffling around him. He looked over his shoulder, to see that every creature in the place had surrounded the three. Gaz had turned her stool to face them, but her expression didn't fill him with confidence. She inched her hand towards the switchblade at the small of her back.  
  
Zim turned his head over his shoulder, just long enough to see the mob of space scum that had assembled around them. In the middle, looking directly at him was a Reaptarian with one, jagged scar on his face stretching from his brow, across his eye and over the corner of his mouth. Zim saw no other part of the Reaptarian fleet, which ment that this one was rogue – a traitor to his people. He brandished several weapons in his many hands. He pointed one of them at Zim as he spoke.  
  
"You've got a lot of nerve, Irkin," said the Reaptarian in a language neither Gaz nor Dib could understand. Zim turned back towards the counter and swirled his complementary drink, which like water on Earth, was always there.  
  
"Coming around here with your slaves, right after the battle at Food Courtia," he sneered visibly. "You must have a death wish, because that's all that's here for you." He snapped one of his wrists, which brought out a long blade. It made Gaz's switchblade look like a butter knife.  
  
Of course, Zim had no idea what battle he was talking about, so he bluffed. "It's a free empire," said Zim in the same language, "I can move about however I choose. And these aren't my slaves, for your information. Now are you going to leave us alone or do I have to MAKE you leave us alone?"  
  
An angered murmur swept through the room. The Reaptarian growled loudly and another blade emerged. Zim didn't move.  
  
"Tough words for An Irkin scum like you."  
  
That did it. They both charged at the same instance. Zim spun off the stool and brought a blaster out from under his shirt, which had assumably been there the entire time. The Scared alien maneuvered with his blade as Zim quickly approached, but they ended in a stalemate.  
  
They both stood, the blade at Zim's neck and his blaster under the Reaptarian's chin. They snarled at each other, faces inches apart. The Reaptarian began to apply pressure and Zim brought back the blaster's hammer.  
  
Just then, there was a loud slamming sound. A chubby, aging Irkin with faint red eyes busted through the kitchen doors, aiming what looked to be a very large, very advanced riffle at the two battle-locked aliens. He held it against his shoulder, head down and one eye closed for a good shot. All motion stopped in the diner.  
  
"Now you boys got two choices," said the Irkin in a husky voice. "You could put down your weapons and leave this place, or-" he chambered a round into the gun. "I could blast your scummy hides up to your maker. Which is it gonna be?"  
  
Zim and the alien, whose eyes had never left each other, remained locked as they lowered their weapons.  
  
"There we go, all friendly like. Now all of you – get the hell out. This diner is temporarily closed."  
  
The mob angrily dispersed. They filed out and headed towards their ships. The Reaptarian turned towards Zim before he left. "Tu paka` mi siyo porl`chinta," he snarled. "Fol kalon."  
  
"Tu pa` sakomi," Growled Zim. He slid his hand out from under his chin and spit towards the alien. The alien began to charge, but the riffle cocked once more. He growled threateningly as he reluctantly left.  
  
Zim sighed, and turned back to Dib and Gaz – but was met with the barrel of a long gun first. The Irkin behind the trigger seemed no less on edge despite the fact that the mob was gone. Zim gulped and tried to keep his composure.  
  
"Why aren't you leaving, boy? What part of 'get the hell out' don't you understand?"  
  
Zim looked at the old Irkin. He wore simple black slacks, a white shirt and an apron over that. The apron was stained with various food elements, most of which Zim couldn't' identify. He looked aged and stressed, but it was still him. It was Spluge himself.  
  
"Spluge…" said Zim softly. "Don't you remember? The invasions? The stories? How you would serve up the stew after each one? Don't you remember?"  
  
Spluge's eyes fell to the ground for a moment, but soon looked back up at Zim.  
  
"My hearing must not be what it used to, because for a second there you sounded mighty familiar."  
  
Zim smiled cautiously. "It's…it's me Spluge… It's Zim."  
  
Spluge shook his head firmly, and for a second Zim thought he saw a tear well at the bottom of the old Irkin's eye. "Zim's dead."  
  
"No he's NOT," Said Zim, taking a step closer. The gun leveled higher as he approached. "It's really me, I'M Zim. I can't really explain it… it would take a lifetime to… but it's me."  
  
Spluge's lip seemed to tremble for a moment, and he bit it to make it stop. He stared at Zim, wanting to believe. "Prove it."  
  
"Oh what an invasion!" said Zim in a loud, triumphant voice. "They were everywhere – but I, ZIM, triumphed. Oh it was grand, Spluge, you should have been there when they awarded ME the medal for outstanding performance on the battlefield! Oh, the Tallest themselves were there!" He shook his fists for emphasis, and cackled evilly after he was done. He ended with his fists on his hips and the same old egotistical grin of his face. Dib was actually a little taken aback as he watched Zim resurrect his old self.  
  
Spluge dropped the gun on the counter. "Zim?"  
  
"Spluge!"  
  
They both embraced, laughing hysterically. After a moment, Spluge gripped Zim by the shoulders and looked him over. "Well I'll be a slaughtering-rat- person's dinner! Look at you! I almost SHOT you, you've gotten so tall!"  
  
For the first time ever, Gaz and Dib saw Zim visibly blush. "Well, I kinda had to, under the circumstances."  
  
"What? OH! You've got to tell me what has happened to you. Where have you been?"  
  
Zim smiled sadly. "It's a long story, old friend, but I'll be glad to share it with you." 


	8. Close Encounters of the Irkin Kind

WOW THINGS ARE HEATING UP! This is the longest chapter yet, but a lot happens. After this one, the chapters begin to take place on Irk. Yes, it's been a tiring journey, but we've finally arrived. Enjoy and stay tune for more updates!  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
Red walked through the hall, hands clasped behind his back and bodyguards all around him. He mainly watched the floor as he walked, not daring to look at the prisoners around him. This was the one place where he was not feared. The Prisoners of War ward.  
  
In this facility were the few who had dare defy the Empire and live to tell about it. Their lives were not glamorous, but they were alive. Which was more than you could say for most. Even though they were behind bars, Red could not bring himself to look at them. He knew what he would see if he did look there; he would see utter contempt, hatred. A black rage that burned in the back of their eyes, so delicately poised on the edge of insanity. Them, all of them here wanted both him and Purple dead. He knew that perfectly well. What he could not understand was how Purple or the countless other officials delt with them so effortlessly. Purple himself seemed to meet the hatred head on, with such confidence, that more than a few times Red had seen tough, decorated POW's crumble under his gaze. And Purple was who he would attempt to mimic today.  
  
Usually Purple dealt with POW's when it was necessary. But he was not feeling well (Red figured he had a massive hang-over) and would not be up to the strain of POW negotiation. He had asked Red to go instead. When Red was hesitant, he had said, "Just look them strait in the eye, and be blunt. Don't let your gaze falter. It's a sign of weakness if you do. And they can smell fear, so don't show that either." Red was finding that more and more difficult.  
  
They reached the end of the cellblock, and entered a good-sized room with a divider down the middle. This was the interrogation room. Usually, when prisoners were infiltrated, the negotiator was in the same room, and the prisoner handcuffed to a chair. But when it was necessary for a Tallest to interrogate, the Irkin secret service took no chances. They set up a force field between the rooms, in addition to the prisoner being cuffed. Usually, the prisoner was uncuffed during talks, unless instructed otherwise. This was one of those times.  
  
Red walked up to the viewing window, a slit in the divider, to see into the other room. It was almost completely dark, the only light coming from the slit he was gazing through. He saw a dark, hunched figure in the center of the room. The only movement it made was to see what had obstructed the light coming into the room. The light reflected off its large eyes for a moment, and then was gone. Red turned uneasily away from the window.  
  
He stood about five feet away from where the divider would be raised. He once again, clasped his hands behind his back, and drove the fear to the back of his mind. He sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. When they opened he wore an expression of determination.  
  
"Open it."  
  
One of the guards pressed a button next to the divider, and it slide upward into the ceiling. They heard the force field hum to life under it, and a moment later the lights fluttered up in the room. Red kept his eyes fastened on the prisoner.  
  
Kain sat, cuffed and hunched in the newly lit room. His eyes remained shut. A deep cut over his right brow was just healing over, dried blood still around it. It should have been cared for, but Red guessed he had refused any medical treatment. His exoskeleton resembled armor in the harsh white light. It covered every inch of his body except the laceration above his eye. Each one of his multiple arms were secured in back of him, and his two ankles to the legs of the chair. Well, because Reaptarians walked on their toes like dogs, the chains were technically secured right below his ankles. Either way, every one of his twelve limbs were secure. This made Red feel a little better, but not by much. Even shackled, Kain looked intimidating, like a vicious, rabid beast in a cage. Red almost jumped when his two large insect eyes opened to deadly slits.  
  
"The infamous Red," said Kain, his voice thick with sarcasm and contempt.  
  
"Kain."  
  
"Why have you brought me here?" he said, cocking an armor-plated eyebrow. "To further my humiliation?"  
  
Red, with some effort, kept his composure. "You're here to talk."  
  
Kain raised one side of his lip in a sort of mute growl, and huffed some air contemptuously through his nose. "What do we possibly have to discus? You've enslaved my people. End of story. Not one I particularly like but I can't change history." He narrowed his eyes further. "Nor can you."  
  
Red gulped, and hoped it wasn't visible from where Kain was sitting. Kain obviously knew the shock their attack had on the empire. It had damaged the economy somewhat, but he didn't think Kain knew that. Kain, he presumed, was playing the odds. He probably knew the social damage an attack would cause – hell, he probably planned on it. It must have been a goal to cause civil unrest just a decade after the last revolution.  
  
"The damage on Food Courtia is considerable. As a sort of punishment, your people will be charged with repairs. If it is not done adequately, they will suffer. You will suffer too, but differently. Because of current POW laws, we are not allowed to torture you. But you WILL be present at any executions of your men." Red smirked bitterly. "You're lucky. Most Irkins would kill for a floor seat to that."  
  
Kain brought his shoulders up and back like an angered animal, and growled deep in his throat. He flashed his many fanged teeth. Red began to detect the black rage he so feared. Kain's eyes were still angry slits, but he could sense it. Yes, it was there. As strong as any sensation he had felt. And Kain definitely possessed the potential to kill. But despite that Red was feeling easier. He had gotten a reaction from Kain by mentioning the death of his men. He was slightly more confident.  
  
"Now, as for other matters, we have an offer." Red took a cautious step closer. "If you talk, and tell us what we want to know, we will not execute your men."  
  
Kain spit across the room. "You lie! Irkin scum always lies! I know for a fact that even if I do talk you will just dispose of my men quicker. They would serve no further purpose. I bet you have most of Food Courtia cleaned up by now, anyway. Your death-squads are great at cleaning up messes. No deal, Ty`Blancha, no deal."  
  
Kain's sudden outburst caught Red by surprise, and he had jumped a step back. Despite the force field Kain's voice was still powerful and clear. It sounded as if they were in the same room, with nothing to divide them. Red knew that the Force field didn't filter sound, but it still unnerved him at the closeness of the voice. So full of rage. So full of black, obscene hatred. It made Red want to cover his ears and leave the room. But he didn't, and he looked back up at the prisoner.  
  
What Red didn't notice was the pin in one of Kain's hands. The sudden outburst had been deliberate, to cover up and motion of his lower hand tossing it up to a top one. Red also failed to notice that the chains around Kain's ankles slide a few inches closer to the ground.  
  
Red narrowed his brow. "Well if you won't accept our offer, you'll have to tell up without any compensation. What I want to ask is: Are there any more spies? How did you attain them? And are there any more attacks planned? By any of the conquered territories? If so, tell me."  
  
Kain shrugged contemptuously, when actually he was jamming the pin into the cuff lock. "How would I know? I don't hold conferences with other refugees. But if you want my opinion, there are no more attacks – unfortunately – because there are no more weapons. The ships and weapons we used were from a hidden stockpile that had yet to be raided by your armada. We were most recently conquered, so not all of our supplies had been pillaged yet," He put emphasis on the word 'pillaged'. "So put your mind at ease, Ty`Blancha, I doubt any of your captures have the resources to pull another one like that." Red had failed to notice, thankfully, that Kain had avoided the questions concerning spies.  
  
Red narrowed his gaze. "Why are you telling me all this so quickly? It's as if you're hiding something. What you just told me sounds to well rehearsed" Kain shook his head firmly. "I just don't want more useless casualties."  
  
The lock opened. The first pair of cuffs released, and Kain grabbed them in one of his hands. If it fell to the floor, he would be found out. His left hand gripped the wrist of the right, which held the cuffs. From the front it still appeared as if he was shackled. He carefully dropped the pin to his next waiting hand.  
  
Red picked up a chart, which had been placed on the small table next to him just a short while earlier. He flipped through it; it was the report of Kain's containment so far. An item caught his eye and he peered over the edge of the clipboard at Kain. "You tried to commit suicide."  
  
The second pair off cuffs unlocked.  
  
"So? If I want to die at my own hand that's my decision."  
  
Red was genuinely curious. "Why?"  
  
"Why? Why what? Why is it my decision or why did I attempt it?"  
  
Red cocked an eyebrow. "The later, of course."  
  
Kain seemed to look down and to the side for a second, as if contemplating the question. In actuality, he was having trouble with the third lock.  
  
"If I'm dead then my people will have no reason to listen to you, you blackmailing, son of a bitch, Ty`Blancha. If I'm dead than there will be no need to conform." The third popped open, and Kain smiled darkly. "Then there WILL be an uprising. Reaptarians without a leader can be extremely unruly. Like a swarm of bees with no queen," He had already begun on the fourth cuff. "And you're the smart-ass kid who hit the hive with a stick. I'd hate to be in your position right now." Red wasn't aware Kain ment that very moment.  
  
Red's expression remained unchanged. "You can't rule the universe without making a few enemies."  
  
Kain chuckled in a way Red didn't like. "I suppose your right."  
  
Red took a few steps closer. He was only about two feet from the force field, about six feet from Kain. He looked Kain directly in the eye, just as Purple had instructed. Little did he know that that was exactly what Kain wanted.  
  
"Do you think your little act of defiance had that much effect?" asked Red. "Sure it surprised us, but overall nothing has changed. The only thing you've managed to do is get yourself in prison."  
  
The small, dark smile faded from Kain's lips. "And beat up one of your territories pretty badly. I saw the damage done, you can't deny that. Your death squad may be good, Ty`Blancha, but they can't rebuild an entire planet in time to stop considerable losses. Food Courtia was your biggest supplier of food and supplies. Sure, you and your co-ruler will eat well, but what about the people?" Pop, there went number four. One more to go. "Sooner or later the food shortage will become evident, and people will start to ask questions…" he let it trail off, purposely leaving Red wanting more. Kain didn't want him going anywhere.  
  
"Questions? And since when have you been a master of Irkin sociology?"  
  
Kain narrowed his eyes. "Its common sense, and a little bit of experience. There was a brief famine a few years ago on our planet, and the same thing happened. Not in the capacity it will happen here, tough. I feel you will get it much worse." He leaned back in the chair cockily. "You don't spend half your life ruling an entire race without learning a thing or two about sociology. Don't you agree?"  
  
Red crossed his arms. "No I don't. I think we have the food/supply issue pretty well taken care of. In fact, I think there will be very little question about the attack. A lot of people knew it would happen sooner or later. And a lot of them are grateful it happened on such a small scale. There were some casualties, yes, but not nearly as many as there could have been."  
  
Pop! The last pair of cuffs unlocked. Kain's arms were now completely unshackled. (Here comes the tricky part,) thought Kain to himself. He would have to wait for the right moment; he needed Red to temporarily turn away so he could free his feet. He had limped into the negotiating room, faking an injury from the battle. The guards, thinking he was half immobile anyway, hadn't secured the shackles on his ankles very tightly. There was just enough room, in fact, for Kain to slip his feet out of the chains altogether. That's what he had been doing before Red came in. Judging the slack in the chains and mentally preparing for what he would soon do.  
  
"Sir!" cried a soldier from the back of the room, saluting as he did so. Kain's heart leapt at the sound, but Red did not turn away. "What is it, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Incoming transmission from Tallest Purple! Do you wish it on the viewing screen?"  
  
Red still did not turn away. "No. Tell him I'm in the middle of something."  
  
The guard was momentarily lost for words. "But Sir, he… he might become angry with me."  
  
This time Red did turn, and Kain made his move. "Well if he gets on your case, I'll back you up. Now you've got the support of a Tallest on your side."  
  
The soldier seemed to brighten at the thought of a Tallest fighting for him. "Yes Sir!"  
  
While Red was talking, Kain had hastily removed his feet from their bonds. He pressed them hard up against the chair legs, and pulled them free of the chains. For a moment he feared the movement was to fast, and that Red would notice from the corner of his eye, but he didn't. He turned back to Kain not knowing.  
  
"Is there anything else you want to say before you are escorted back to your cell?"  
  
Kain looked right at Red, their eyes locking. "Just one."  
  
He dropped all five pairs of cuffs to the floor.  
  
"Sir-" said a soldier, but it was too late. Kain lunged from his chair at Red, all arms forward and armed with sharp exoskeleton fingers. Red was catatonic with shock, and couldn't move. As Kain hit the force field, bursts of electricity were suddenly visible, it was only after the initial impact that it became evident – Kain had broken THROUGH the force field!  
  
Kain's top set of arms had penetrated the force field, and he immediately gripped Red by the neck. Red brought his own hands up to release himself from Kain's grip, but it was no use. Reaptarians were notoriously strong, and Kain was their leader. Kain's arms shuddered and bled from the electric current currently being passed through them, but he managed to keep his grip. Interrupted electrical currents shot out like a tiny lightening blots from around Kain's arms where they were penetrating. Through them, Red could clearly see Kain, and clearly see the Black rage billowing from his eyes. He felt Kain's razor-like thumbs push into either side of his windpipe. After a few brief sputters, he could no longer breathe.  
  
The guards were panicked. Most ran outside, to get into Kain's side of the room, but because the force field was being tampered with, the computer did not allow it to open.  
  
"I'm gonna have to manually override it!"  
  
"WELL HURRY!"  
  
Two guards ran to Red and tried in vain to pry him out of Kain's vice-like grip. Red's vision began to go black. He stared at Kain from under half- laded eyes. He was almost gone.  
  
Kain snarled in hatred and pain. He thought, thought for a good moment that Red was going to die, when he heard the door to his side of the room open from the manual override. He stole one last glance at the nearly unconscious Tallest. "Ki Pu-chu mih Kali, Ty`Blancha!" He said defiantly, before being shot with a blaster. His grip released Red, who fell limply to the floor. Kain staggered for a moment, the huge jolt of electric charge from the blaster nearly knocking him unconscious, until a second was shot and he did. He hit the ground with an indifferent THUD and then everything went black.  
  
The two guards that had been trying to help Red hunched over him. One pressed a finger to his neck, and to his relief, found a pulse. But it was very, very weak.  
  
The other sat up strait and hit the communication device on his wrist. "We need a medical team down here NOW!"  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Red awoke in the medical cruiser a few minutes later. His eyelids, still heavy, fluttered open. As his vision cleared, he could see the ceiling of the cruiser. There were various monitors around him. His breath, although coming in, hurt and came in a raspy gasps. He tried to swallow but couldn't, and he began to cough.  
  
That was when the medical team first noticed he was awake. One of them bent over him and spoke. "Just take it easy, my Tallest, we're almost to the infirmary."  
  
Red put a hand on his brow, in slight confusion. He tried so speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, and his voice came out hushed and scratchy. "What… what happened? I can't seem to remember right now."  
  
The paramedic checked the monitors as he talked. "You will shortly. What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
It hurt to talk, but Red did. "I remember… a sound. Like… pieces of metal hitting the ground. After that nothing."  
  
One of the guards, who was riding next to him, said, "That was probably the sound of Kain dropping the handcuffs. Right after that he attacked you, damn near killed you. Luckily, the computer overrode and we were able to neutralize him." The guard leaned closer. "You're lucky to be alive, Sir."  
  
Red tried to nod, put a shot of pain bolted through his neck. He carefully brought a hand to his neck, and winced when to touched it. His fingers came back with blood on them. "Blood? Was an artery severed?"  
  
"No," stated the paramedic. "Kain's fingers cut your neck, but they missed any major arteries or veins. He was really just applying pressure, trying to strangle you. …He almost seceded."  
  
Red closed his eyes. He felt the cruiser slow down as they reached the infirmary.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
He was wheeled into the emergency room. He was hooked up to more monitors, but was told he was in no immediate danger. He was also told that Purple would be there shortly. His neck ached, and was constantly prodded by a doctor. He was short, and needed to stand on a stool in order to examine Red.  
  
"You're very lucky," he said, turning Red's head gently from side to side so he could examine the wounds. "A few Gali-meters to either side would have opened major blood-ways. How's your breathing?"  
  
Red inhaled, but almost coughed on the exhale. He shakily released the breath. "Ok, I guess." The doctor narrowed his brow in concern.  
  
"At-ten-SION!" Heard Red outside the door. The stomping of feet as they snapped to attention immediately followed it. It could only be one person.  
  
Purple half-heartedly saluted as he entered. His eyes found Red, and he hissed air through his teeth. He sighed. "Your first negotiation."  
  
Red groaned. Purple sighed again.  
  
"Well, let's have a look at you." Purple walked over to Red, where the doctor had stepped down and was having some trouble moving his stool over. Purple, nonchalantly, picked the stool up in one hand and moved it over. The doctor muttered an embarrassed Thank You and stepped to the side.  
  
Purple lightly touched Red's neck, positioning his fingers just under where his ears would be. He placed his thumbs just under Red's chin, guiding his head as it turned. Red watched Purple's expression change as he examined the wound.  
  
"Is there any internal bleeding?" Purple asked the doctor without turning away from Red.  
  
"No. The main goal of the attack was… strangulation. Though the cuts did come dangerously close."  
  
"I see," said Purple, tilting Red's head up to see under his jaw. "The cuts are on either side of the esophagus. He was putting pressure on the windpipe. They stretch from where the jaw meets the neck to about the collarbone. Tell me Lieutenant," said Purple. The Lieutenant snapped to attention. "Sir."  
  
"How was it possible for Kain to BREAK LOOSE of his bonds and then PENETRATE the force field?" Purple kept his hands on Red but turned his head over his shoulder to face the Lieutenant.  
  
"He… um…" the soldier stuttered for a moment. "He… somehow brought an object – a pin in this case – and manipulated the handcuff locks. After that, he slipped his feet out of the-"  
  
"Yes, tell me, how did he manage that?" Purple's voice was gaining an edge to it. The Lieutenant noticed.  
  
"Well… when we were securing him, he was limping. Because he was hardly mobile… and injured… we figured shackles any tighter would hurt him. He-"  
  
"HURT him?" Purple cut off the soldier again. The tone of his voice was becoming ever more agitated. "HURT him? Now which is a bigger priority: Keeping a Tallest safe, or the comfort of a prisoner? And now, because of some careless judgment, a Tallest was almost killed." Purple wiped around to face the Lieutenant, who was shaking visibly. "How do you feel about that?"  
  
The soldier opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out. Purple was on him in a flash, towering over the shaking soldier. The Lieutenant was reasonably tall, but he stood a good foot shorter than Purple. Purple leaned over him with an angry glare. "You may want to seriously reconsider your position," said Purple in a close, conspirators whisper. His hands flexed tightly, and the soldier could hear the skin strain under the force. "Now get out before I do something I regret."  
  
The Lieutenant almost ran to the door. The doctor, and several other guards in the room, went silent. Purple took a deep breath, then waved a hand in the air. "Please excuse us. I must brief Red on something."  
  
The others in the room got out as fast as they could. Purple whipped a hand over his face and walked back over to Red. "What am I going to do with you?"  
  
Red was a little caught off guard by the statement, but Purple didn't wait for an answer. He held Red's face again, this time for a closer inspection that would have raised eyebrows if the others were in the room. He sighed as he did so.  
  
"So what did you learn? What did he say?" said Purple. Red shrugged, but found that it hurt when the tissue on his neck moved. He scratched the back of his head. "He said he doesn't know if there will be anymore attacks, but he personally doubts it. He says none of the territories have the resources necessary to pull off one like that. He also mentioned a food shortage. I guess they were banking on the idea that an attack on a supply planet would hurt the Economy. To bad they were right." Purple sighed.  
  
"He knows to much. They must have researched this before attacking." Purple leaned close to the wound on Red's neck. At first Red thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he sniffed several times. He pulled back and continued the inspection.  
  
"What was that?" asked Red.  
  
"I was checking for rot. I know it happened just moments ago, but you can never be to careful." He finished the inspection and placed his hands on Red's shoulders. "Anything else I should know?" he asked, looking Red in the eyes. "Not really… except he said some things I couldn't quiet understand."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"There were in Reaptarian."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Red was fluent in scores of languages, but unfortunately, Reaptarian was not one of them. Purple, fortunately, was.  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"He kept calling me something… a… Tie… Blancha… something."  
  
"A Ty`Blancha?"  
  
"Yea that's it. What does it mean?"  
  
"There's no exact translation, but it means something like 'Tyrant Politician'." He smirked. "Makes sense."  
  
Red rolled his eyes. "And he said something else… Ki Pu-chu mih Kali… then he said Ty`Blancha again."  
  
Purple wasn't so amused by this. "It means: 'The end of your days rapidly approaches.' Nice, huh?"  
  
Red sighed deeply. "I failed. I went in, hoping to get some information, but instead got attacked. Again, I'm thinking I'm not worthy to be-"  
  
He was hushed by Purple putting a finger over his lips. "Shhhhhhh… enough of that. You're just upset."  
  
Purple touched Red's face, and kissed him on the forehead. He pressed their foreheads together. "When I heard something had happened to you," said Purple softly. "I almost had a heart attack. I couldn't imagine going on without you there."  
  
Red pulled him closer and buried his face in his neck. Purple leaned his head on Red's. "Don't do that to me again." They held each other for a moment before calling the others back in.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
"…And now I'm here." Finished Zim. Spluge's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide. Zim felt himself blush slightly, realizing just how shocking his story was. Spluge said nothing for a long time, just staring at Zim. Zim was about to say something when he finally did. "My god…" he said softly, shaking his head. "And now your back."  
  
They were aboard the ship. Dib and Gaz sat in the room; Gaz sat backward on a chair and dib sat uncomfortably on his. They were in a small, eating hall on the ship. So small, in fact, that there was only room for three chairs. Zim leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. They all regarded Spluge, waiting for some other for of response. Zim had gone over all the basics: The fake mission, the explosion, the painful merging with human growth hormones, the seven years on Earth, and finally the message, and making of the ship in an Earth laboratory. He had divulged into it all, staring down at his crossed arms. When he occasionally looked up, he would see Spluge fascinated, hanging on his every word.  
  
And now he just waited for any response.  
  
"So…" Zim started. "I guess I've told you all this because… I want you to join us." Dib and Gaz looked at each other. "You've been a great friend and… frankly, we need all the support we can get. So, are you with us? Will you help us in our fight?"  
  
Gaz and Dib had no previous knowledge that Zim would make such an offer. Both twisted in their seats.  
  
"Well…" began Spluge, turning his gaze to the ground. "The odds are stacked pretty heavily against you. I mean, two Irkins and two… what are they again?"  
  
"Humans." Said Dib, irritably.  
  
"Yea. Like I said, our chances of… even keeping our lives… are just not that good. I mean… joining you would be like a death wish."  
  
Zim looked down in defeat. It WAS too much to ask Spluge to join them, he knew it. Wishful thinking, he thought. He was just about to tell Spluge not to worry, and that he wasn't mad, when he was clapped on the shoulder.  
  
"But I'll join you, and help take revenge for what they've done."  
  
Zim's heart swelled. He was filled with joy at the thought of his old friend joining them. He smiled and shook Spluge's hand. "Then welcome aboard."  
  
Gaz and Dib exchanged concerned glances.  
  
"Zim," said Gaz. "Could we talk to you for a moment?"  
  
"Well not right-"  
  
"Now!" they said in unison. Despite their differences, Gaz and Dib could occasionally share a sort of sibling connection. A psychic bond Zim never experienced, having no known relatives. He excused himself and left the room with Dib and Gaz.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?!" asked Dib, putting his hands on his hips.  
  
"What! We need all the help we can-"  
  
"But c'mon, Zim!" said Gaz. "We don't know this guy, and why weren't we informed of your little offer? This guy could be a spy for all we know!"  
  
He had never seen Gaz this upset with him. Back on Earth, she was mad all the time, but it had never been with him. In fact, they had just started hanging out recently.  
  
"Zim," said Dib a bit more calmly, taking off his glasses. "Do you understand our point?"  
  
He looked at them. They had the same eyes. Underneath Dib's glasses, it was hard to tell, but now he could see the resemblance more than ever. He thought about telling them that, knowing they would deny it. He sighed and looked at them. "I understand, and I'm sorry for not consulting you. But this guy CAN BE trusted. Please believe me, I need your confidence on this."  
  
They looked at each other, their eyes sharing that bond Zim would never understand. Finally, they looked back at him. "OK," said Gaz. "But please don't make us regret this."  
  
"Deal. And besides, Spluge is a prodigy of a cook, always has been. I say we'll be eating a lot better now that he's on board."  
  
"Thank God!" said Dib, replacing his glasses. "I don't know about you, but freeze-dried bologna looses its luster after about five minutes."  
  
For the first time in a long time, Zim laughed.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Aboard the starship Gargantuan, Elize sat. The treason, which had recently occurred aboard the ship, had been one of her men, and she cursed herself everyday for the folly. She knew that if her uncle had not been Tallest, she would have suffered much more severe consequences. She had given him access to all sorts of intelligence information, without a second though. The mere THOUGHT of a spy in the Irkin fleet was just too remarkable; she never thought to consider it. Of course, her punishment had been minimal. She was warned and suspended from document access for an undecided amount of time. But she had checked, and her password had yet to be restricted. They were afraid, she knew.  
  
Her uncle in collaboration with Red ruled the Empire with an iron fist. She knew it, they knew it, and the public knew it, but everyone was so happy with all the victories that it was ignored. The Irkin Media broadcasted stories about the battles, and harrowing tales of bravery. But they discarded stories about the falling economy and school conditions. Military academies were in top shape, but public schools and universities were working on a slashed budget.  
  
She messaged her temples. Despite all that was wrong with the Empire, she had to admit there were a lot of strong points. Money, military power, and Universal morale was at an all-time high. Everyone was glad to be 'On the winning team'. And as for the Tallest – she had met them both, and they seemed like decent people. Red seemed nice and her uncle was, well, family. And you really couldn't think too badly about your family.  
  
She heard the door to her quarters open and she turned towards the sound. In stepped one of her men, decked out in full combat gear. He saluted and stood at attention before speaking.  
  
"Ma'am!" he shouted. "It's time for the war games. I've been asked to escort you to the arena, Sir! …Eh… Ma'am!"  
  
Elize laughed. " 'Sir' is fine. Wait outside; I'll be there in a minute." He left, and she got up.  
  
On the way to her room she passed up a photo of her mother and Purple. It was taken during a financial convention a year ago, when the senate and financial leaders gathered to discuss budgets and policies. In the picture, Purple had his arms crossed, as if contemplating. Pez stood in front of him, talking with her hands, presumably about some financial issue. The picture was well known throughout the Empire, but only Elize had the original copy. She passed it and went into her room.  
  
She changed into her combat uniform. Stripping of everything but her underwear and bra, she pulled on her armor: Heavy-duty pants, complete with hidden weapon compartments; a blaster-proof chest plate with a red stripe signifying her as the squad leader; combat boots and a helmet, also baring a red stripe. She set her helmet on the bed while she pulled on her gloves. She tucked the ends under her sleeves, and put on her wrist armor. Instead of black, hers were silver. She adjusted herself in the mirror, briefly noticing her dress for the banquet in the background (how different she would look compared to now) and slipped on the helmet. Loading her uniform with weapons (a knife, a small pistol, a tazer) she shouldered her attack rifle and left the room. Out in the hall, she put down the helmet's visor and motioned to the private standing by her door. "Let's go."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
She entered the hanger, where her men mulled around, waiting.  
  
"Soldiers!" she shouted in the large hanger. Her voice rang through the acoustically inferior room. The men snapped to attention. "SIR!" they said in unison. Their collective voices were even louder than hers. She walked to the front of them and waved a hand in the air. "At ease. Private Morr tells me that we have a briefing today. I expect you all to be shining examples of discipline and military excellence. Can you do that?"  
  
"SIR, YES SIR!" they responded in unison. She nodded and took her place at the front of the squad.  
  
The doors to their left opened, and in stepped an aid. He stood in front of the doors and announced: "Presenting, the ruler of the Irkin Empire, General Royal and Commander of the star ship 'Gargantuan', Tallest Purple!"  
  
Elize had not expected Purple himself to do the briefing. She then realized, with some amusement, that none of her men knew she was his niece. She stifled a smile. "Atten-TION!" she shouted, and the squad did so.  
  
Purple walked in, hands clasped behind his back. He wore his Commanders uniform, which resembled one of his usual robes except it was semi-armor and bared the Irkin insignia. It went down to his ankles, flowing regally. He stood dead center in front of the squad and began.  
  
"You have been assembled here today to participate in the annual War games. Unfortunately, the war games purpose has been made all to evident by the recent attack on Food Courtia." He paused, rather well, for dramatic effect. He began to pace back and forth in front of the soldiers. "This should increase your determination. While the games are not for real, you should always keep in mind that you ARE training for real battle. And remember, as you participate, the lives of your fellow soldiers that were lost during the battle."  
  
"SIR, YES SIR!" the entire squad, Elize included, shouted. Purple stood for a moment, looking over the men. His eyes finally settled on Elize, and he smiled almost imperceptibly. He walked over to her. "Remove your helmet, soldier."  
  
She did so, and held it under her right arm. "Identify yourself."  
  
"Sir! Lieutenant first class Elize! Ground troop and Air gunner capable, Sir!" she said.  
  
Purple smiled visibly now. He nodded his head. "You have led your squad well, Lieutenant. This is one of the most decorated bunch of men I have seen in my career of ruling. You, yourself, are highly decorated. The Empire commends you for your hard work."  
  
Elize smiled. "Sir! Thank you, Sir!"  
  
"Now, I have a few issues I wish to discus with you," he held out his hand, and a clipboard was placed into it by the aid. He curled in into his arm and placed the pen point onto it, ready to write. "I take it you are attending the banquet next cycle?"  
  
"Sir, yes, Sir."  
  
"The most respected leaders in the Empire will be there. How may I ask, were you invited?"  
  
"I believe you did, Sir."  
  
Purple nodded. "Very good, so I did. Now, for other matters-"  
  
He shifted his weight onto one leg, and tapped the pen on his chin. In a very conversational tone he said: "Which would you prefer: Recorded or live music?"  
  
"Uh…." She assumed the same casual stance and scratched her head. "Live."  
  
"Uh-huh," he said and wrote it down. "And diner – served before, during, or after the address speech?"  
  
"During would very classy." She said. He wrote it down.  
  
"And finally – Soup or salad?"  
  
She considered only a moment. "Both." Purple rolled his eyes. "I'll put you down for 'soup'." He finished writing and handed the board back to the aid. "Gotta ask people's opinions on these things. Remember last time?"  
  
She nodded. "Oh yea. Senator Bort was never the same." Senator Bort had been allergic to the soup last year. He broke out in hives and had to be escorted home. Purple nodded in remembrance.  
  
"Yes, yes. That wasn't all too pleasant was it? Well, I guess I'll see you there. I'll be watching you from the viewing deck now, so make me proud."  
  
"Yes, Sir!"  
  
Purple shook his head. " 'Sir' is so formal. Why don't call me what you normally do?"  
  
"Sure thing – Uncle." Elize couldn't see them, but she knew that behind her the squad was shocked. Purple must have realized, because he smiled when he looked over her shoulder at them.  
  
"Now go out there and show these privates why our bloodline is the strongest in the Galaxy." He, breaching tradition, saluted HER first. She raised her hand to her brow and held it there. "Sure thing – Uncy Pur." He laughed as they brought down their hands. "Oh, I'll get you for that."  
  
"Sure you will." She said, and winked at him. He chuckled as he left the hanger.  
  
After Purple and the aid had left, she turned to face her squad. Each face reflected utter amazement. "Well you heard the man," she said, pulling the helmet back on her head. "Let's show him what we're made of."  
  
She flicked down the visor as the hanger doors opened.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
  
  
Zim sat in the cockpit of the ship they had lovingly named: "The Vooter", after Zim's fallen cruiser. He steered half-heartedly, his reflexes already used to the controls. Spluge came in and sat next to him.  
  
Looking out the windshield he said: "We almost there?"  
  
"Yep. Just about. How do Gaz and Dib like that stew you made?"  
  
Spluge laughed. "They didn't like to good. The one with the vision aid had to throw up."  
  
Zim chuckled. "I told them they wouldn't like it. And the other one?"  
  
"The female? She didn't like it either, but she was able to keep it down at least. I tell ya, these 'humans' must have some strange tastes. That stew is famous all over this sector, why would they not like it?"  
  
Zim scratched the back of his neck. "Their physiology is different from ours, and their body doesn't need the same nutrients. To tell you the truth, your stew didn't taste as good to me as I remember it. It must be the human side of me."  
  
Spluge nodded. "Your right. Do humans have eating habits much different from ours?"  
  
Zim considered, then nodded. "Well, for one, their carnivorous. Humans are able to tolerate the high protein level found in flesh – in fact they need to consume it."  
  
Spluge hung his jaw down in disgust. "You mean they're flesh eaters? Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick! They actually EAT other living things?"  
  
"They eat vegetation also. See, humans classify themselves in a different consumer group then we've considered. They're OMNIVORS. It means they can, and need to consume both flesh and plant life in order for their bodies to function. Now, while this seems strange, it's actually a great evolutionary trait. They are able to adapt to conditions we would shortly die in. For example – if two group of explorers: one Irkin, one human – were stranded alone, somewhere with no food or sustenance what so ever, the humans would outlast us. While the Irkins would die of starvation, the humans – now this is really sick – could resort to CANNIBALISM."  
  
Spluge slapped a hand over his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick!"  
  
"Try not to think too much about it. Humans are NOT normally cannibals; they look down on such behavior, and are just as disgusted about it as you are. But the thing is: if it came down to it, they would be able to as a last resort. There are recorded cases on Earth of groups being stranded high in the mountains or in the wilderness without food, and surviving that way."  
  
Spluge's antennae crooked slightly. "Earth?"  
  
"That's their home planet, where I was stranded. And you wanna know something else interesting about humans?"  
  
"I don't know, do I?"  
  
Zim smiled. "No, its not disgusting, just fascinating – they DRINK WATER!"  
  
Spluge shook his head. "Now you're just playing with me."  
  
"No I'm serious! 63% of their planet is water; in fact it's believed the first life on their planet sprang from the vast oceans. Around 70% of a human's body is water, too."  
  
Spluge's eyes were by now wide with fascination. "Are they sea creatures?"  
  
"No, they're land animals like us. But they can swim; another evolutionary quirk. And climb."  
  
"Well they sound indestructible, what CAN'T they do?"  
  
"Indestructible? Far from it. Their bone structure and body frame are weak from a gravitation field less than on our planet. And if they don't drink enough water they'll die of dehydration. And despite the fact they can swim, they can't hold their breath very long. About thirty second is average. The gravity problem I'm trying to fix; I've been steadily increasing the artificial gravity since we left. I don't think they've noticed."  
  
"I've noticed that I feel a little lighter on this ship."  
  
"Yea, but I can't increase the amount too drastically. They'll still feel the effect of Irk's gravity once we get there. Hell, I will to. My body's degenerated after seven years of less gravity. I tell ya, right after I landed for the first time on Earth I felt like a million bucks."  
  
Spluge was confused. "A million what?"  
  
"Bucks, a slang term for dollars, a human currency, one of the most valuable. There are a lot of human currencies."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Just then, they passed a beacon, telling them they had just entered Irkin space. A written messaged flashed on the screen.  
  
"I'll explain latter." Said Zim.  
  
The message said in Irkin: 'You have entered Irkin flight space. Welcome! Please be prepared for a boarder patrol check and have a nice day!'  
  
Zim narrowed his brow and raised his antennae. "Boarder check? Since when?"  
  
Spluge said: "Must have been instated right after the Food Courtia battle. I guess they're not taking any chances."  
  
"You know, that Reaptarian said something about a Food Courtia battle. What battle?"  
  
Spluge raised an eyebrow. "You mean you haven't heard?" Zim shook his head.  
  
"The Reaptarians attacked Food Courtia about two days ago. Word is Food Courtia is in pretty bad shape, even though the media doesn't say so. My food providers for the diner say there's some shortages, but only people in the restaurant business know about it so far."  
  
Zim hadn't heard anything past 'Reaptarians attacked Food Courtia two days ago'. He stared at Spluge in disbelief. "Reaptarians ATTACKED Food Courtia!?!"  
  
"Yeah. Caught the armada by surprise. Word is the Tallest themselves had to take control of the fleet."  
  
Zim stared forward in disbelief. He didn't have much time to think, though, because GIR rushed in.  
  
"Master! I want a – Ooo!" GIR had spotted Spluge. "HI!" he pounced on Spluge and began to poke at him. "HI! Who are you? (Gasp)! You took my piggy didn't you!"  
  
"GIR! What are you doing! Who turned you back on!"  
  
They had turned GIR off, temporarily, for safety reasons. Zim knew that if he had been on during flight something horrible might have happened. They rest seemed to have done GIR some good, because he seemed more annoying than usual. "But master! He took my piggy!"  
  
GIR had jumped off Spluge and was now pointing an accusing finger at him. "Didn't you? Didn't you!"  
  
Zim tried to grab GIR but he jumped out of his grip. "GIR, what piggy are you talking about? I'm sure Spluge did not take your piggy…" Zim looked up at Spluge. "Did you?"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Spluge looked at Gir and realized something. "Hey, this is one of those SIR's isn't it!" Spluge picked GIR up and held him at eye level. "Wow, I hear they only assign these to top invaders."  
  
"Well, kind of, but he's-"  
  
GIR spun his head around on his shoulders. "Look! I'm Linda Blare!'  
  
Zim whipped a hand down his face and sighed. "Defective."  
  
Just then, Gaz ran into the cockpit. "There you are! Sorry Zim, but he just turned on a second ago. I don't know why."  
  
Zim continued to look at GIR. "He must have turned on automatically when we passed the boarder."  
  
Gaz sighed. She spotted Spluge. "Hi." She then smiled mischievously. "GIR…" she said, reaching into her back pocket. "Look what I've got."  
  
She pulled a small rubber piggy out, and displayed it. GIR gasped comically and struggled free of Spluge's grasp. He jumped up into Gaz's arms and grabbed the piggy. "I missed you pig!" He then snuggled Gaz. "I love you…"  
  
Gaz grumbled. "Hey, you want me to turn him off again?"  
  
"No, we're almost there anyway. And besides, he's got my ID card. I'll need that when the boarder patrol gets here."  
  
"And not a moment to soon," said Spluge, pointing to the screen. A small light was blinking, signifying someone was trying to contact them. Zim turned to Gaz. "Gaz, you and Dib have better hide in the cargo hold, there are gonna be some soldiers boarding the ship. But wait-" He opened GIR's head (who protested much) and pulled out a small chip that contained his ID information. He closed his head and handed him back to Gaz. "Take him – and make sure he doesn't make a sound." She nodded and ran back into the rear of the ship. Zim turned, and pressed the button to open up communication.  
  
"Wait!" said Spluge. "What's our cover story?" but it was to late. An Irkin soldier appeared on the screen.  
  
"Greetings, civilians. May I ask your purpose for coming to Irk?"  
  
Zim opened his mouth, but said nothing. Luckily, Spluge chimed in. "I'm Spluge and this is my associate. We're here to pick up a shipment of supplies for my diner."  
  
"Do you have a business license?"  
  
"Yes. The registry number is 506-42-5078."  
  
The soldier looked down as he typed. He looked up a moment later. "It checks out. But it seems your ship is unregistered. May I ask why?"  
  
They said nothing for a moment, but it was Spluge to the rescue again. "We were also planning on registering the ship. The head commercial vehicle registry is on Irk, is it not?"  
  
The soldier just looked at them. "I suppose it is. Thank you for your cooperation – and prepare to be boarded."  
  
Zim had thought for one fleeting moment that they would not board, but the thought was premature. He said they were ready to be boarded.  
  
Him and Spluge walked out of the cockpit to the door, where they waited to be docked. They heard the dull metal noises as the docking mechanism from the boarder patrol ship lodged onto the Vooter. The door opened and three Irkin soldiers entered. Zim was surprised (and pleased) to see he was taller than all of them.  
  
As two of them wheeled a device in, the other walked up to Spluge and Zim. He walked right up to Zim, because he was taller. "Good day sir. May I see your and your associates ID chips?" They handed them over, and the soldier inserted them into slots of an electronic clipboard, where the information would be read. "Spluge: Restaurant owner. Valid license." He clicked over to the next screen. "Zim. Wait a minute… Zim? Isn't that the name of the crazy Invader who blew up a section of Irk?"  
  
Zim smiled nervously, stifling a grimace at the mention of his past. "Yeah, guess the name was in circulation when I was born. Some luck, huh?"  
  
The soldier huffed in amusement. "Yeah. Zim: Invader first class. Hey, you're in the military to?"  
  
Zim quickly formulated a cover story. "I was honorably discharged. Spluge here is a relative of mine, and I was discharged from the military so I could help him with the diner because he was going through some hard times. It just happened recently so I guess they haven't upgraded my status yet." Zim didn't know if the soldier would believe this, for it was a little bit of a stretch, but after a moment's consideration he pulled their chips from the slots. "I guess, but it's still an honor to meat a former first class invader of such height."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
The soldier handed them back their chips and turned to the other two. "Their story checks out; bring out the scanner."  
  
The device of which they were bringing in turned out to be a scanner, which would scan the entire ship for any hazardous material. One of the soldiers opened the top of it, which was actually a screen. He turned it on and read the information as it came up. "…No hazardous metal… standard anti-matter engine…" but then the suspicious information started to come up. "… Generic design… and some water. Water? May I ask why you're carrying water aboard your ship?"  
  
Zim scratched the back of his neck. "Is that a problem?"  
  
The soldier typed with one hand on the small keypad. "Water is considered a hazardous material by current HM laws. Can you tell me why you are carrying it – and why my scanner cannot pick up any type energy producing device aboard?"  
  
The soldier looked up at Zim, one eyebrow cocked. "The lights are obviously on."  
  
Zim had no story so he told the truth – despite how suspicious it was going to sound. "The water you detected is located around the anti-matter propulsion unit. The heat produced by the unit is great, so we have water circulating around it to produce steam, which then turns a turbine located to the rear of the ship. You see, we us the water to produce energy." But that was not the whole truth. There were also gallons of water in the cargo hold for Gaz and Dib to drink. "And I suppose the 'generic design' warning your scanner picked up was from that power system. We're actually testing this type of propulsion for a friend of ours."  
  
The solder seemed to half believe, half not believe him. "And who is this 'friend' of yours?"  
  
"A retired professor who still does some independent research. He's located on the East portion of sector 4579." Zim knew that the soldier had no information on sector 4579, besides that it was marked for resource exploitation. He eyed Zim suspiciously, not quite believing them. But finally he gave in. "Fine. I'll be sure to report this to the bureau of hazardous material, though." He closed the scanner screen and turned it off. "That's it. You can start with the ship sweep now."  
  
The third and last soldier began to walk down the hall, into the ship. Zim and Spluge followed, hoping Gaz and Dib had gotten good hiding spots.  
  
Down the hall, near the cargo hold, Dib and Gaz were hiding in a closet. The closet door was partially slatted, so they could see outside of it somewhat. Dib was crammed in first, and Gaz in front of him. Gaz held GIR in her arms, struggling to keep him from moving. He kicked and pushed, but somehow she kept her grip.  
  
"C'mon GIR, hold still I can't-"  
  
"SHHH!" said Dib in a loud whisper. Gaz looked up and gasped when she saw the soldier right outside the door. He stood in back of Zim as he entered the code to enter the cargo area. Gir saw to, and managed to get his head free. "IT'S-" he started to yell, but was cut off when Gaz slapped a hand over his mouth.  
  
The soldier heard this brief, but loud noise from the closet. His head turned sharply in its direction. "What was that?" he asked. "What was what?" asked Zim, still trying to open the hold door. He was sweating. The soldier reached for the closet door's handle…  
  
"Got it!" proclaimed Zim, the soldiers hand only an inch from the knob. The soldier dropped his hand and followed the two Irkins into the hold.  
  
Dib let out his breath and rested his head on Gaz's shoulder. Gaz was not celebrating so soon. She held tight to GIR and hoped he wouldn't bit a chunk out of her Game Slave hand with his metal jaws.  
  
In the hold everything was in crates. There wasn't much left, a cause of concern to Zim, but currently that ment there were less suspicious food items to be looted through. The soldier put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Nothing to out of the ordinary here. Is there anything else I should be alerted of? Any foreign plant or animal life you would like to declare?"  
  
Zim thought, 'Oh yeah, by the way, there's two aliens and a defective robot in the closet. Do those count?'  
  
"No, this is it. Like I said we're here to pick up supplies." Said Spluge. The soldier wiped out a small device and flicked it open. For a while it just beeped regularly, indicating nothing unusual. But when the soldier began to walk around the beeping increased frequency. For a while it was fine, but once he neared a crate of freeze-dried meat, it started up. The soldier peered down at the device. "Hmm. What have we got-"  
  
Just then his communicator went off.  
  
'YO KORK! HURRY UP THERE WILL YA? WE'VE GOT A CALL ON SOME SMUGGLED NACHOS!'  
  
'Kork' pressed the 'talk' button on his communicator and lifted it to his mouth. "Smuggled nachos? Yea, I'm coming." He let it fall back to its place by his shoulder and looked up at Zim. "Everything seems normal. Enjoy your stay on Irk." He then left the cargo hold. He failed to notice, however, that just before he turned off the device the beeping increased dramatically. He had passed the closet.  
  
Zim and Spluge followed the soldier out, where he closed the hatch behind him. The sound of docking equipment dislodging soon followed, and they were free of the boarder patrol. Zim leaned against the wall and sighed with relief.  
  
"HEY! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!" yelled Spluge down the hallway. Dib and Gaz came down the hall a minute later. Gaz came last, GIR on her shoulder playing with her hair. She looked disheveled.  
  
"Get this thing off me."  
  
Zim complied.  
  
They all crammed into the cockpit, where the planet Irk was rapidly approaching. When they reached a certain distance, they stopped to look at it.  
  
It was a pinkish-orange globe, surrounded by two blue rings. The two Earthlings stared at it in amazement. Zim, with a strange sense of nostalgia. Spluge, not quite feeling the same sense of awe as the rest, respectfully left the cockpit. The three remaining said nothing for a long time. It was Zim who finally broke the silence.  
  
"I'm home," he said softly. "I'm finally home." 


	9. Killer Instinct

And the plot thickens! Wow, I think this chapter is longer than the last one.  
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
Several soldiers wheeled a stretcher down the infirmary hallway. Each one of the patient's 12 limbs was shackled down to it, even the injured ones. His eyes remained shut, presumably unconscious.  
  
Doors swung to the side as the soldiers passed through them, doors labeled 'SOLITARY CONFINEMENT', where the prisoner would spend the rest of his long incarceration. They reached cell number 589, and one of them slid a card through the slot. The massive door unlocked with a buzz and a clang, then slid open with a heavy grinding noise. They wheeled the stretcher in, and hastily unshackled the prisoner. They lifted him up and off the stretcher with little care, and plopped him onto the small cot against the wall. Afterwards they left, egger to leave the ward of the damned.  
  
A small smile slithered across Kain's lips.  
  
Almost, he thought, almost. He could FEEL the Ty`Blancha's life draining from his body. He had been so close. He could taste vengeance.  
  
But he supposed it was too much to ask for, at least this soon. This war, although the Irkins had yet to realize it was a war, would be long and not without bloodshed. If it required him to sacrifice his own life, he would. For his people.  
  
He opened his eyes and examined his arms. They were heavily bandaged from his elbows to his wrists. The lay slack, crossed on top of his chest. He winced in pain as he raised they up. As the fingers curled into claws, they trembled with rage, the sterile white light of the room shining off their armored surface.  
  
"Soooo close. So very, very, VERY close. I could SEE the life flowing from his eyes. A few more seconds and it would have been all over…" but Kain knew he would not get an opportunity like that again. They would be watching him much more closely now after that little stunt. And Red had not been his original target, Purple had. But you had to take what you could get, he supposed… He curled his fingers into fists.  
  
He sighed and carefully placed his injured arms to his sides. He reached up with an undamaged hand to his brow's laceration, which, after the blasters electrical shock, had begun to bleed again. It was re-bandaged and sterilized while his arms were treated. But this clean-up job seemed much more sloppy than the first. Probably the medic's way of punishing him for attacking their leader. Kain sighed contemptuously.  
  
These freking Irkins and their corrupt leaders, he thought, they will not last long. After the rebel forces regroup, there will be more attacks, and more, and they will never stop until the Irkins were stripped of their right to rule. And those two, freking, bastard leaders would be publicly executed.  
  
Kain smiled at the thought.  
  
And now? What now? He was still imprisoned, and the guards would stop any attempt at suicide. So what now? They could still blackmail the rebels into submission. Without the ability to take his own life he was virtually powerless to help them. But Kain knew the answer.  
  
He would wait. That was all he could do. Wait for an opportunity to escape or kill again, and after that he didn't know. Playing it by ear would be wise; you had to be flexible in these types of situations. He had tried to kill at least one of their leaders before he took his own life, that would have been ideal, but now all he could do was WAIT…  
  
And Reaptarians could be very patient.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
That night, after watching Elize win (and show off) at the war games, Purple had returned home, picking up an injured Red from the infirmary on the way. He now slept in their bed, not expecting his latest premonition.  
  
The dream started out seemingly normal. Purple stood at the window of their suit, gazing down upon the Capital city at sunset. For a moment, he just basked in its warm glow, in awe of its beauty. After a moment of this, he felt an arm slip across his waist and breath on his neck. He turned around to find Red, completely healed, standing behind him. They eventually made their may to the bed, where Purple knew there was only one possible outcome. Red straddled him, and began to scale down; taking is time as he went. Purple lay back and enjoyed it.  
  
He turned his head towards the window and the beautiful sunset. But the serine vision did not last long. After a moment a dark front began to move in, covering the large sun and its light. As they approached, Purple noticed that they were not just overcast but BLACK. Dark, demonic clouds, issuing lightening down upon the city, reeking destruction. Purple started to say something – but never got the chance. As he turned towards Red, he was met with the barrel of a high-powered blaster.  
  
As Purple scaled his eyes up, he was struck with a dark terror. The hands, arms – belonged to Red. But the head, perched upon the shoulders of his beloved like some cruel, dark-humored joke was the head – OF ZIM!  
  
His red-pink eyes were filled with black joy at the position he had caught Purple in. His mouth wore a sadistic grin, his jaw clenched in victory. His right shoulder – the one not holding the gun – was rolled back, as he lined up the shot with his left, gun-wielding arm. Purple said nothing, to horror struck to move, the end of the gun less than four inches from his face. Zim pulled back the hammer.  
  
Slowly, as if punctuating his speech, Zim swung his right arm to meet the handle of the blaster. His grin seemed to widen and darken simultaneously as he spoke. "The end of your days rapidly approaches…" His fingers clenched around it with a grim sense of finality as he paused and cocked one smug eyebrow. "Ty`Blancha."  
  
He pulled the trigger.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Purple awoke screaming. He shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and racked with fear. He hugged himself and squinted, trying to shake the awful vision from his head.  
  
"Huh… wha…" said a voice to his left. Purple turned his head sharply in that direction. Seeing the dark figure next to him in bed, he screamed again. He lunged frantically for the light and turned it on.  
  
As the lights came up, Purple saw it was Red. At first he didn't believe it, the nightmare fresh in his mind.  
  
"Purple?" asked Red carefully. He reached towards Purple, who retreated from his touch. Red looked back at him with a sort of worried, hurt expression. Purple, seeing the emotions on his partners face began to believe his eyes, but he still made no move. IT COULD BE TRICK! Part of him cried out. The rational portion of his mind had yet to regain control.  
  
"Purple… what's wrong?" asked Red, now concerned. Purple, who had braced himself against the headboard, began to relax. He turned his head slightly towards him. "Red?"  
  
Red smiled a confused smile. "Yeah, its me." Purple, now fully believing it was him, did not know whether to laugh or cry with relief. He let out a relieved half-yell-half-laugh and slumped down from the headboard. "Oh thank God." He put his forehead in his hands and leaned forward on his elbows. "…Thank God…"  
  
Now Red was really worried. He moved over to Purple and put an arm around him. This time Purple did not relent.  
  
"Purple what's going on?" Purple leaned into him. "Nothing. Just… a nightmare I guess. But man, it was SO REAL. I mean, I thought you were-"  
  
He looked at Red. He wore no shirt, and a bandage over his neck. His eyes looked very worried. No, Purple thought, this was not the Red in my dream. The other one was a fraud, this one is real.  
  
Purple smiled sadly. "Never mind. It's not important."  
  
Red cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You seemed pretty damn scared when you woke up. Hell, you're still sweating. What in the cosmos could have scared you so much?"  
  
Purple closed his eyes, and under his breath he said, "The past."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. Let's go back to sleep, I'm tired."  
  
He started to turn to his pillow, but was stopped. Red kissed him gently on the lips. "I worry about you when you have these premonitions." Said Red, their bodies still very close. Purple smirked. "And I worry about you whenever you're on your own."  
  
Red opened his mouth in protest, and Purple had to laugh. Red nudged him. "Very funny. Now go to sleep."  
  
As Purple layback down, he thought about what Red had said. HAD it been a premonition? He hoped not. He thought about if Zim really had returned to take vengeance.  
  
He shuddered. He did not fall back to sleep for a long time.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
"Well there it is," said Zim. "My home planet. A beauty, isn't she? Damn it's been so long."  
  
Gaz and Dib just stared.  
  
"Yeah, the readings indicate its summer. Beautiful time of year on Irk. Don't you agree Spluge?"  
  
"Yee-up."  
  
"Well I think it's about time we land,"  
  
Dib took off his glasses, polished them on his shirt, and put them back on. He paused for a moment before talking. "It's not at all like I pictured it, but it's still incredible. All my life I've been searching for intelligent life outside Earth… And here's an entire planet of alien life. My God… my dream's come true."  
  
Gaz whistled. "Wow. Didn't know if I'd live to see aliens land – and NEVER thought I'D be the alien!"  
  
"Gaz," said Dib. "Do you realize we're the first humans EVER to see extraterrestrial life… and believe it?"  
  
She nodded. "Kind of humbling, isn't it?"  
  
"I'm sorry to break all this up," interrupted Spluge, "But if we don't land soon that boarder patrol's gonna get mighty suspicious. What'd ya say we take 'er down?"  
  
Zim pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "He's right. Gaz, you're co- piloting, Dib, just… hold onto something. You too Spluge."  
  
Spluge hesitated. "Haven't you landed this thing before?"  
  
Zim began to say something, then stopped. He looked at Spluge after a moment's consideration. "No."  
  
Spluge covered his face with one hand. "Dear God…"  
  
"Hey!" started Dib, "How come she gets to co-pilot!"  
  
Oh look, thought Zim, He's been reduced to whiny little brother form.  
  
"Have YOU spent that last three weeks playing 'Deathcon 4: Flight Simulation' on Game Slave II? Didn't think so." She said as she pushed Dib out of the way of the co-pilot seat. Dib continued to protest. "But –but Zim-"  
  
"She's right Dib. I told her to play it because I would need someone to help me land. Plus she's got some video game experience that could prove useful. Sorry, but you'll get your chance later."  
  
Dib sighed.  
  
"Now buckle up you two," said Zim, "This is going to be a bumpy ride – to say the least."  
  
They all fastened their four-point safety belts. Zim grabbed the joy stick- like control and got a good grip. This landing was going to be hard, he knew that. Because the ship was really a cross between an Irkin Voot Cruiser and U.S. space shuttle, there were two sets of controls. His was a joystick, like his cruiser. Gaz's controls resembled the yolk of a 747. Halfway through the decent, they would have to switch control of the ship. He would handle re-entering the atmosphere and straitening the ship, while Gaz would handle the actual landing. Zim had never landed a ship by gliding in. Voot Cruiser's landed vertically and only very massive Irkin ships landed otherwise. He hoped her three weeks of flight simulation were enough. But she was a prodigy, wasn't she?  
  
"Do you know where we're going to land?" asked Gaz. Zim turned towards a small monitor and began to type.  
  
"Yes. There's a small, inconspicuous landing strip and hanger near the capitol. I assume my old account there is still active, so we'll be able to pay for housing. And guys – as we're landing, try to get a good view of the city, its that last you'll be seeing of it for a while. You two will have to hide out in the ship until we have something figured out."  
  
Dib started to protest but then understood. Gaz gripped the controls and took a deep breath. "I'm ready."  
  
"Good. It will only be a few moments until will rotate over the capitol. The strip is right on the outskirts, so you should be able to see it all right. OK – here it comes."  
  
They waited only a few seconds, though it seemed like hours. Finally, Zim's monitor displayed the right coordinates and he made his move.  
  
"Hold on!"  
  
He pushed the control stick forward. The engines came to life, and gradually increased in power. The planet started to become larger, and approach more rapidly. After a few moments, all that was visible was the pink-orange surface of Irk, its gigantic mass filling the field of view. The edges of the windshield began to glow red.  
  
Soon the red spread down the glass, obscuring more from view. But visibility was still good. He could at least see where he was going.  
  
They rapidly approached the planet, passing through high-altitude clouds. The main cloud cover began to approach – the layer of condensation, which constantly covered the surface of Irk. The layer under which the large city was concealed. Zim knew that once they passed through it; once the city became visible, he would have to hit the 'TRANSFER' switch and Gaz would take over. It was coming so fast…  
  
They hit the cloud layer. For a few seconds, there was NO visibility. The thick layer of nitrogen and sulfur clouds (not water vapor, God forbid, the Irkins would never survive) had completely engulfed the ship. But soon they broke free of the barrier, and city lay out before them in all its glory.  
  
The landscape (which was the EXACT same color as the sky) was blemished by a huge, silver city. Individual buildings could be seen, higher and more graceful than any Earth architect could have imagined. Zim heard Gaz gasp as it became visible, and for a moment he envied her untarnished view of the Universe. For he had seen too much to be awe-struck by a city he knew all to well.  
  
It was time to switch. He turned his head, despite the strong G-forces, and yelled to her over the roar of the engines. "ARE YOU READY?" he yelled. She nodded her head with some effort. "YEAH!"  
  
He hit the transfer switch.  
  
Suddenly his control stick went slack, and he knew the transfer was successful.  
  
Gaz felt the Yolk become rigid in her hands, and knew it was show time. She held the controls level, slowing their decent. "WHERE'S THE STRIP!?" She had to scream.  
  
"ON THE NORTH WEST SIDE OF THE CITY! CURVE AROUND, IT SHOULD COME INTO VIEW SOON!"  
  
She tilted the yolk, tilting the ship to the left. After the ship was lined up with the perimeter of the city, she gently tilted the yolk right, swooping expertly around the metropolis. Zim was becoming more confident that the flight simulator had done the trick.  
  
A bead of sweat rolled down Gaz's face, then back from the G-forces. A lock of hair had curled around her neck, and was being pushed into her windpipe forcefully from the gravity. Luckily, she could still breath.  
  
C'mon, c'mon, she thought, where is this fucking thing? At least in the simulator you knew where you were going. The spiked bracelets on her wrists were starting to tug at her skin painfully.  
  
Suddenly, she spotted it.  
  
"SEE IT YET!?" shouted Zim as the strip came into view over the horizon. She grit her teeth. "YES!" She began to swoop in an approaching arch. Soon, she was coming head on towards the strip. It was after a moment of this, that she noticed that there were SEVERAL strips.  
  
"SHIT, ZIM, WHICH ONE!?!"  
  
At first Zim didn't seem to understand the question, and for one terrifying moment Gaz visualized crashing into another ship. She started to shout again, but he answered. "THE ONE JUST TO THE LEFT OF THE MIDDLE! IT SHOULD BE EMPTY, ITS MINE!"  
  
Gaz gulped. All the video games in the world couldn't have prepared her for this.  
  
She re-angled the ship and tried her best to steady yolk. It was after she had accomplished that, after she began to be optimistic –  
  
That disaster struck.  
  
A tremor rocked through the ship, nearly sending them into a tailspin. Gaz kept her hands on the controls, but they were not responding properly. Everything seemed to lean left, FAR too left. What he HELL had happened?  
  
Zim was glaring frantically at the monitor. Dib and Spluge were gripping the armrest for dear life.  
  
"ZIM! WHAT THE-"  
  
"IT'S THE FIRST ENGINE! IT BLEW OUT! I HAVE TO CUT THE OTHER'S POWER!"  
  
Gaz did NOT like the sound of that. "WHAT!?!?!"  
  
"IF I DON'T WE'LL SPIN OUT!" Zim looked out the windshield, then back as Gaz. "YOUR GONNA HAVE TO GLIDE US IN!"  
  
Gaz stared intently out the windshield, digging her nails into the yolk. She felt a smaller tremor as the right engine went dead, and she was on her own.  
  
Oh –Lord-I've-never-been-much-of-a-prayer-but-if-I-live-I'll-build-twenty- five churches-in-your-honor, she thought frantically. She gulped as she began the decent.  
  
It was shaky. The strip seemed to wobble in front of her, but miraculously, the ship re-angled properly. They approached the strip, and just when things seemed to be looking up, disaster struck once again. She pushed the landing gear switch – but it didn't deploy.  
  
She hit it again. And again, and again and again –  
  
"ZIM! WHAT THE-" then she realized. "THE POWER ZIM! THE POWER! THE LANDING GEAR-!"  
  
He hastily went back to the power switch and turned back on –  
  
-Unfortunately this turned back on the second engine… again.  
  
"AAHHHH!" they all screamed in unison. The recently deployed landing gear hit the runway, and the ship shuddered under the impact. Gaz struggled to maintain control, and kept it. The ship rolled to a stop a few seconds later and they all went silent as the last engine died.  
  
All were sweating. Zim ripped off his seatbelt and pulled his navy-blue hoodie tighter around him. Gaz gripped the back of her arms and hugged herself. Dib and Spluge remained still. After a moment, after the initial trauma, the all to familiar Gaz-rage surfaced.  
  
She snapped her head around and gripped the armrests in anger. "What the FUCK was that Zim!"  
  
Zim's eyes went from wide with surprise, no narrow with anger. "ME?! Hey, those engines were just FINE last time I checked them!"  
  
"Oh Yeah? And when was that, you-"  
  
"GUYS!" shouted Dib. Both Zim and Gaz turned towards him glaring dangerously. "Where's GIR?"  
  
They looked at each other. Then bolted from their chairs.  
  
The two in back sprang from their seats and followed the others down to the engine room at a full sprint. Zim arrived first, followed by Gaz, and swung open the engine room door. Inside, they saw what they hoped wouldn't be there.  
  
Sparks flew everywhere. A burning smell hung in the air ominously, and there, standing in front of the mess – was GIR.  
  
He held a bouquet of wires. He extended them towards Zim. "I picked these for YOU!"  
  
"NOOOOOO!" screamed Zim as he fell to his knees. He covered his face and began to weep. "WHY!?! WHY FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHY!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Gaz grabbed her hair with her fists and yanked. "Jesus Christ! What the HELL GIR? Now how are we ever going to get back home?!"  
  
Zim rose up from his knees wearing an expression of black Rage. "Come here GIR." He said dangerously calm, beckoning him closer with one curling finger. GIR dropped the wires and took a step back. "I'm afraid to…"  
  
"Oh-ho-ho… You'd BETTER be afraid," he said, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. He began to walk towards GIR. "With what I'm gonna do to you…"  
  
GIR backed up, and then started screaming. He bolted around the engine room. He finally got around to the Door and shoved past the three others as Zim followed closely. "HEY! COME BACK HERE YOU DEFECTIVE BUCKET OF BOLTS! I'LL MAKE A TOASTER OUT OF YOU! HEY – GET OVER HERE!"  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Screamed GIR. The other three just stood indifferently and watched.  
  
Spluge: "Is this common?"  
  
Gaz: "Oh…yeah."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
During the War Games, before Purple had had his unsettling vision, Elize had preformed to perfection. She remembered after the hanger doors had opened, how her squad marched dumfoundedly towards the transport vehicles, still stunned by the revelation that their Squad leader was niece to one of the almighty Tallests. Once in the transport vehicle, she took her seat at the head of the row and took the assault rifle off her shoulder. When she looked up, all eyes were on her.  
  
Each of the several TV's (transport vehicles) her squad had occupied had the seating arrangement of two rows facing each other. She sat at the front of the compartment in a seat facing the two rows. Both lines of soldiers had their heads turned, looking at her. She lifted her visor and cocked an eyebrow under it. "What?"  
  
"Is it true?" asked one of the soldiers in the left row. She smiled. "Is what true?"  
  
"You know, that Purple Tallest is your uncle. Which means your mother is Pez, the richest Irkin in the Empire."  
  
Elize removed her helmet and set it between her feet. "Yes he's my uncle. And yes, Pez is my mother."  
  
The soldier faltered for a moment before regaining his train of thought. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"How could you not tell us?" he said. The others nodded in agreement. She sighed. "I don't have to explain myself to any of you, but I will anyway. I wanted to make a name for myself in the military on my own. If I had had the title: 'Purple's niece' all through training and my instatement of leading this squad, there might have been animosity towards me. The entire spiel about 'Friends in high places' and such. Well I've avoided it up until now, but I haven't exactly hidden it. You could simply look my name up in the public records and it would say so. Despite that, no one knew – not even commander Cog, at least not until after I was promoted." Commander Cog had been a Lieutenant and the squad leader, and when he was promoted to commander he instated Elize to replace him. "But I believe that I've held my own and carried this squad through some though battles, do you agree?"  
  
The soldier straitened. "Yes, Sir!"  
  
"Very good. And I believe that I've gained the respect I now have from this unit rightfully, and on my own, do you agree?"  
  
All of them straitened. "Yes, Sir!"  
  
Elize folded her hands over the barrel of her rifle, which was standing on its butt, and leaned forward. "Good. Then I expect no further discussion, no animosity, and no special treatment now that you've all found out my little secret. Agreed?"  
  
They put their hands to their heads in salute. "SIR, Yes SIR!"  
  
"Good. Now I say we all share a moment of silence in remembrance of the Food Courtia victims."  
  
Elize bowed her head over her rifle, and the others followed suit. After about fifteen seconds the pilot made an announcement. "WE'VE ARRIVED AT THE ARENA. DOCKING IN TWO NANO-CYCLES." The TV's had taken her squad from the Gargantuan to the planet Irk, where the battle arena was.  
  
Elize lifted her helmet, placed it on her head and passed her hand over her face, putting down the visor. Feels a little loose, she thought. Her last helmet had been cracked and thus ruined during the Food Courtia battle, when the Gargantuan was being struck with enemy fire. A piece of replacement haul, weighing approximately 2,000 Irkin pounds, fell from its restraints and landed on it. Luckily, Elize hadn't been wearing it. She had been down on the planet with her other relatives, negotiating their dead Uncle's will. The helmet she was wearing now was supposed to be a temporary replacement, so was not custom fit. She hoped it would be OK.  
  
"Let's move!" she said as they filed out the hatch. They ran out of the vehicle and onto a sort of service elevator that fit the entire squad. As the others from different vehicles piled on, they stood in formation facing forward. Once they were all on, the side less elevator began to move up through a metal tube to the battlefield. Elize, at the front, watched the passing metal walls and prayed mentally in a sort of mantra to the Irkin Goddess of war. 'Strength, courage, honor. Strength, courage, honor. Strength, courage…'  
  
As Elize looked up for the approaching doorway, she could hear the other squad members reciting the mantra as well, in a hushed, personal whisper. Commander Cog had taught them it, before he left the squad. Some of the soldiers recited it in USL (Universal Standard Language. – English, to Earthlings.) And some recited it in Irkin, their native language. Elize closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'Strength, courage, honor.'  
  
The large doors descended in front of her, the Irkin symbols above it flashing. 'Battle commence in – 10, 9, 8, 7…'  
  
Elize pulled back her brow in determination. Rolling her shoulders back, she let the rifle fall from around her shoulder to her hand. She crossed it across her chest, cocked it, and waited. The sound of fifty assault rifles cocking followed hers shortly. She closed her eyes.  
  
"…4, 3, 2, 1, COMMENCE."  
  
There was a loud buzzing as the doors opened. Elize opened her eyes and slipped into battle mode.  
  
"MOVE!" she yelled, standing where she was as the squad rushed past her. She hung back purposely. Running at the head of the squad would be suicide – once the squad leader dies, the game ends. Of course, they didn't really die. The projectiles in their assault rifles were filled with paint, and once a bullet hit a soldier's armor, an electrical current was sent through the suit, freezing it. If you were it more than two times, this would happen, paralyzing you. You were considered 'Dead' to the game.  
  
Elize began to move as the middle of her squad was passing her. She drew her assault rifle, and kept to the safety at the heart of her men. She knew that this formation was not the ideal cover – for her silver armor clashed with the black of he squad's. She would be spotted.  
  
The arena consisted of metal formations – gray hills, crags and structures. The channels between these formations were narrow, perfect setups for ambushes. The ceiling was a high, domed structure fixed with lighting and cameras. Stands lined the battlefield, filled with spectators from other squads. Elize was able to hear the crowd's roar even before she stepped into the arena. The battlefield itself was about the size of two football fields next to each other, in human terms. Elize knew the opposing squad was at the other end, searching for her as her men were searching for their squad's leader.  
  
"Fan out," she said. The communication device imbedded in her collar picked this up, and sent it to small speakers in each of the squad member's helmets. They did accordingly. "Numbers 1 through 30 search for the target- " -the other squad leader- " –and kill any opposition you meet with. The rest of you fan out wide around me at a twenty-meter radius. Try not to let anyone by you, but if one does, focus on not letting others through. I can handle a few on my own. Got it?"  
  
A muffled, in unison, "-Sir!" came through her helmet. They began to recede from her, disappearing around structures and hills. She kept low to the ground as she advanced.  
  
Only a moment later, two members of the opposing team approached form behind. Her team had, presumably, forgotten to guard her flank. "THEY'RE BEHIND ME!" she nearly screamed into the communicator, more frustrated at her team's ignorance than her present situation. She quickly rolled behind a structure as shots rang out.  
  
She pressed her back up against the metal hill and held her rifle towards the ceiling. She peeked out around the edge of the structure and then quickly pulled back. Two of them – they looked inexperienced by the way they held their rifles, in a sort of clumsy awkward way. Elize relaxed a little, they would be easy to take care of.  
  
She casually stepped out from her hiding spot and approached them. They both fired, but none of the shots made contact. They were surprised, and their aim was inaccurate. Elize leveled her rifle with one hand, and set off two shots – bam, bam, you're dead. Each shot hit a soldier in the head – instant death. Blue paint splattered over their visors and they fell to the ground, convulsing from the electric current. They crowd roared. Elize turned around and advanced down the battlefield.  
  
For the longest time she was met with minimal opposition. A few Ops here, a few there, all fell in defeat. Sometimes killing them off was harder than usual, but the end result was the same. She had managed to kill at least 15 opposing squad members without any of them landing a shot. She was rapidly approaching the other end of the arena, which ment her and her squad were closing in on the target.  
  
Elize kept close to the ground. Fire was picking up, as shots sailed over the trenches. The sounds of battle surrounded her – gunfire, screams, and the sounds of bullets hitting metal. She was exhilarated; THIS is what she lived for. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at level boarding euphoria. She couldn't help but smile under her visor.  
  
She entered a clearing and was met with three soldiers. She soon realized that TWO of them were soldiers, in their white armor, while the other was dressed in deep red –  
  
The squad leader!  
  
He must have hidden in this small clearing between the trenches for a while now, she thought, his body guards have dwindled down to two. It was common for a squad leader to keep several of his men around him for protection during the war games. Elize, however, did not practice this. She believed it was a form of cowardice – and besides, a Lieutenant of her skill would only be bogged down with the interference of others – they would get in her way, and the last thing she needed to do was kill off her own men.  
  
Elize ducked behind a structure as they started firing. These soldiers, unlike the first ones she encountered, looked like seasoned veterans and seemed experienced with their weapons. She would not be able to bank on their inaccurate fire.  
  
And worse, her helmet was becoming a hazard. It had caused minimal problems earlier in the game, but now was interfering with her maneuvers. She held it on with one hand as she peeked around the corner – and was immediately fired at. She managed to pull back before she was hit. As she released her hand from her helmet, it fell over her eyes. If it fell during a reflex like that again, she would not be so lucky. This would not do.  
  
She risked taking it off, knowing that if those soldiers decided to rush her while she was doing so, she would not have enough time to grab her gun. She lifted it off her head, raising her antennae up from her skull as she did so. She was felt her self being exposed to a sensory level of battle few experienced. Her antennae picked up new vibrations and sensations they couldn't have under the helmet. She looked into at the visor and saw her own deep blue eyes stare back at her. Lowering the helmet to her side, she darted around the corner.  
  
Once out into the open, she sprinted and veered right. The enemy's fire followed close behind her as she ran, splashes of orange paint coming dangerously close to her armor. She lifted the helmet back and up, then hurled it. It hit one of the soldiers in the head, knocking him off his feet. The other continued shooting, and Elize rolled under his fire, shooting her own gun. He pushed the squad leader out of the way and took the hit – on the leg. He was still alive, but could sustain only one more hit before his suit would 'kill' him. The squad leader did nothing, and watched as his men fought her.  
  
Elize straitened, and struck the soldier on the side of the head, killing him. Blue paint dripped down the side of his helmet and onto the arena floor like blood.  
  
The one she had hit with the helmet had gotten up and began firing. Elize rolled up against a wall as the shots rang out, narrowly missing her every time. Finally, the wall went on a right angle, and she ran out of space to move. She pressed up against it as a final shot was issued, hitting so close she felt the air rush by her face. So close in fact, that the splash of orange paint hit her eye. She yelled briefly, more from surprise than pain. She clasped a hand over her eye and, for a fleeting moment, left herself open to fire. Fortunately, the soldier did not act quickly enough to take advantage of this. It took Elize only fractions of a second to decipher her next move.  
  
Though he helmet was off, he squad was still able to hear her through the communication device in her collar. Every one of them heard her cry out, and around the battlefield, several of them got hit while distracted. Most of them ignored orders and rushed to her position.  
  
She knew her rifle was empty. That's why she hadn't countered the last fire. She knew what she was going to do, but it would be harder with one eye. She threw off that fact like I minor annoyance, though, and followed through.  
  
She tossed the large, empty assault rifle at him. While he ducked under it, Elize flipped end-over-end towards him. By the time he had straitened, Elize was looking him in the eye. He raised his arm to fire, but ever got the chance. With a high kick, she ripped the rifle from his grip and sent it into the air. She caught it, aimed, and hit the opponent three times in the chest. He fell to the ground, convulsing.  
  
The crowd roared in approval.  
  
Now the squad leader acted. He leveled his gun at her and fired, missing, but disturbingly accurate for someone at that distance. She rolled into a firing stance, and shot the target in his gun hand. He dropped the gun, and then flexed his fingers, trying to keep them from stiffening from such a blow. He was now unable to shoot.  
  
All she needed to do was shoot him two more times, and game would be over and her squad would win. She pulled the trigger – but nothing happened. She pulled it again, and still nothing happened. She sighed with frustration and threw it to the ground. Empty, of course.  
  
She stood and stared at the faceless visor, hunched over, bad eye open but only partially functional, and caught her breath. She felt the fan of orange paint around her eye drying on her skin. She clenched, then unclenched her fists. It was his move.  
  
Neither of them was armed. As fire sailed overhead, both squads were oblivious to the fact that the two 'targets' were about to engage in a hand- to-hand battle that would decide the winner. Elize's squad, although still coming from her brief cry, had yet to infiltrate the opposing squad and was still a considerable distance from her. And worse, none of them were sure of her position. A lot were going the wrong way altogether. The few that abided by their orders didn't know that once they found the other squad leader, they would find Elize as well.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Not far from Elize's position, Private Teke (Tek-Kay) was fighting off the opposition. Being the only other female member of the squad, she was used to be compared to Lieutenant Elize. But somehow, she managed not to hold a grudge against her. She, in fact, admired Elize and the shocking revelation that she was related to a Tallest only confirmed her earlier suspicions. She thought that somewhere, whether distant or closely, in her family tree she was connected to the Tallests. What had really surprised Teke was that she was only ONE degree away - and that Tallest Purple knew about it!  
  
Teke maneuvered her rifle expertly and shot an opposing squad member in the chest. She advanced up the field, searching for the opposing squad leader – but stopped. She looked up at the crowd. It seemed as if the mass of spectators was focusing on… one point, about thirty yards from her. Usually the crowd focused on whatever action was closest to them – but not now. It seemed as if EVERY eye in the joint was focusing on that one spot. Cheers, hisses and general rowdiness were aimed at that part of the battlefield. Teke supposed that could only mean one thing – something big was happening. She cautiously proceeded towards it.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
The 'target' approached her. They both knew what it would come down to – they would fight until one of them went unconscious. Their suits, equipped with monitoring equipment, would sense this and end the game. The opposing squad leader rotated his wrist as he approached her. When he got to a point about ten feet away, he stopped and spoke.  
  
"Lieutenant Elize I presume?"  
  
Elize was surprised he knew who she was. She cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah? And who might you be?"  
  
He lifted his visor. "Lieutenant Vox. I knew we were against your squad but I never thought I'd meet you in person. Very impressive, by the way. You took down two of my best men solo, a deed worth commending."  
  
He was considerably larger than her, even though she was taller. He looked older, more experienced in battle. The odds seemed stacked against her, or at least she knew HE thought that by the arrogant tone to his voice, but Elize herself was well trained in hand-to-hand combat. She smiled; knowing that this guy would change his tone if he knew Purple Tallest himself had trained her.  
  
Purple, having no children of his own, had always been a sort of father figure to Elize. He insisted that she be trained by the best, and only the best, in each field of combat. After several dire attempts to find an instructor that met his standards, he had broken down and given up. "Screw it," he had said while messaging his temples. "I'LL teach her." And he had done a spectacular job. Elize even surpassed him in some respects; her being a female enabled her to be more flexible and light naturally. In fact, Elize was somewhat of a gymnast. A skill that would aid greatly when fighting one-on-one.  
  
She whipped her mouth with the back of her hand. "THOSE were your best men?"  
  
He laughed, but it seemed forced. "And YOUR'S are much better?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." She said, grinning. "I mean, don't get me wrong, those guys were good, but I would probably never be able to take two of my own men at a time."  
  
He narrowed his eyes, the false camaraderie gone. "And one at a time?"  
  
"Well of course."  
  
They just stood there for a second, silent among a bath of war. After a moment, Elize spoke, breaking the silence, and extended to her full height from being hunched over. Vox, by the look of him, didn't know that she was taller from the way his gaze faltered for a second. He was not the cool, collected soldier he once was. Elize blinked her orange and green eyes. "What do you say we skip the formalities," she stated from several inches above his head. "And do this."  
  
He nodded briefly. "Fair enough."  
  
Vox planted his foot in back of him, while Elize dropped into a fighter's stance. Crouching, she rolled back her shoulders, extended one hand in front of her and brought the other back behind her head. Vox initiated the start of the fight by charging. He swung, but she ducked under it and reversed. She twisted it behind his back, but he kicked her and broke free. She went for an uppercut, but he dodged. While still on the follow-through for the uppercut, she swung with the other hand and made contact. It was a weak blow though, and he recovered quickly. She went for a kick, but he grabbed her foot and spun her to the ground. Once there, she swiped under him with her leg and he went down.  
  
She reeled her legs up, and then flung them forward, righting herself without touching the ground. She right hooked, hitting his helmet and making an impact while he was still on the ground. He staggered, but did not fall all the way. While he was still trying to get up, she hit him with a brutal scissor kick to the jaw. He flew backwards, blood issuing from his mouth. He continued rolling though, and finally jumped up to his feet. He came at her.  
  
Elize crouched back on her right leg, preparing for a move called the butterfly. She crouched low, bringing the arms high behind her. As he approached, she came up, bringing the heels of her hands together to strike him hard in his already injured jaw. On the follow-through, she spun angelically on her left toe, and then brought her clasped hands down on the back of his neck. Somehow, he remained standing.  
  
Still doubled over, he struck her in the midsection with his shoulder while charging. He was surprisingly strong, and she flew several yards before landing, then sliding to a stop. She opened her eyes and rolled just in time to narrowly miss his knee falling towards her chest. She rolled up onto one knee. He was on her in a minute, and swung. She blocked as she stood, and threw a blow of her own, which was blocked. They went on like this for some time – swing, block, kick, counter, swing, reverse – until something snapped.  
  
"There is a threshold," Purple had said, while going through motions almost reverently. Bringing his hands back, then down, then up to meet and come together in an Irkin martial arts position. "That you come to during battle, where your mind stops. The insecurities stop, the worry stops… where your body sort of goes on autopilot. Where you become faster, stronger, and quicker in the head. Because everything else is blocked out." He brought one hand back behind his head while the other panned the room – one finger curled in, palm out. "Your entire world becomes the fight. You see every move, every block, every possibility, and are able to combine them to suit your needs. You see everything, know everything, and are able to do anything that becomes necessary in the fight. You BECOME the fight." She remembered vividly how his hands came together loosely in front of his face, his first fingers steepled, and how he peered at her over his hands with such determination and something else that made her uncomfortable. "Not many fighters can reach this threshold, but I believe you can," he extended a hand towards her. "It's in your blood. The potential pumps through your veins as we speak." He then smirked, and dropped quickly into a fighter's stance. "Now fight me."  
  
Elize, whether she knew it or not, had reached this threshold. Her mind stopped, and zoomed in on the battle. All of a sudden everything seemed to be in slow motion. The blows, the blocks, drops of perspiration falling from each of their faces. Everything slowed and became clearer. She saw nothing except her next sequence of moves. Her body moved mechanically with these sequences, all doubt leaving her.  
  
Shortly after this clarity, she reeled back her fist and struck through the barrage of blows. It hit him in the side of the head so hard, that for a moment he just stood there, dumbstruck. Elize hit again. And again…  
  
She spun around and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, which sent him flying. He had hardly righted himself when she came at him. She flipped up to a handstand, and grabbed him around his neck with her legs. Using just the right amount of leverage, she swung him under her and hit him with the heel of her hand. She pulled her left hand back, preparing to drive the heel of her hand into his face, driving bone into his brain and killing him. She bore down her hand to strike –  
  
WAIT!  
  
She stopped her hand less than an inch away from where him nose was supposed to be.  
  
WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?! She thought frantically, coming to her senses. I'm gonna KILL this guy! By God, man, get a hold of yourself!  
  
Shakily, she lowered her hand. She held it against her chest and just sat there, straddling him, scared of herself.  
  
He began to make a move to throw her off. Elize growled and simply punched him; he went out cold.  
  
A button on his collar began to flash red. After a few seconds, it remained red. A loud buzzing sounded through the arena, declaring the game over. The crowd cheered and chanted: "2-0-3! 2-0-3! 2-0-" her squad's number. She looked up, and saw peering over the edge of a trench Private Teke, the first of her squad to arrive. Her jaw was down in amazement, her eyes wide. "Remind me never to piss you off!" she yelled over the roar of the crowd. Elize laughed.  
  
Elize got up off of Lieutenant Vox. Teke slid down the side of the trench and walked up to her. "That was soooo awesome! I mean, I only saw the last half but GODS you were good! Where in the hell did you learn stuff like that?"  
  
Elize gave her a look.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Teke stepped back and looked at Elize for a moment. She stroked her chin. "What?" asked Elize. Teke put her hands on her hips. "You know, in that silver armor, with that orange paint around your eye, you kinda look like the Goddess of war."  
  
Elize looked down at herself. "Do not."  
  
"I think you do. Hey, are you OK?"  
  
Elize didn't know what she was talking about. The medical team arrived to help Vox. "Huh?"  
  
"You have blood down the side of your face. I was so excited earlier I must not have noticed."  
  
Elize lifted a hand to her face and scaled down. Her glove came back with blood, but she didn't feel a laceration. "I'm fine. It must be Vox's blood. I beat him up pretty badly, sorry to say."  
  
Teke shook her head. "I hope I never get on your bad side, I'll end up like that."  
  
Elize looked over her shoulder at Vox. He had a neck brace on and was being lifted up on a stretcher by several paramedics. She shuddered. "I can't believe I did that."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Well come on, the rest of the squad is probably waiting for us at the awards ceremony already. And Lieutenant?" Elize looked at her. "Yes Teke?"  
  
"You think you could teach me that move with the handstand? It looked so cool."  
  
Elize laughed and swung an arm around Teke's neck. "Maybe later, come on."  
  
"Hey, where's your helmet?"  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
They arrived where the other squad had entered, by the stage. The stage was really just a platform on which they gave out awards. Once Elize and Teke were in sight, there presence was announced. "Hey! It's the Lieutenant!"  
  
Her squad, followed by the press, rushed at her and Teke. Elize held her empty assault rifle in one hand, and covered her face with the other. "Oh great, the paparazzi are here." She rested her rifle up on her shoulder like a gunslinger and put her other hand on her hip. "Look alive, Teke, this is our moment to shine."  
  
The press muscled by her men and started snapping off pictures of her and Teke… well… mostly of her. They parted like the Red Sea as Elize walked through them. Teke got lost somewhere in the mass of media and was nowhere in sight.  
  
"Lieutenant! Tell us how-"  
  
"Was it hard to-"  
  
"Could you say-"  
  
She held up a hand. "One at a time!"  
  
Pictures kept snapping as they asked questions. "Lieutenant! How do you feel now that you've won your second war game competition in a row?"  
  
"How do you think I feel? I feel great."  
  
"You've won both war games you've ever been in."  
  
"Is that a question?"  
  
"How does it feel to be the youngest squad leader ever to accomplish this?"  
  
"Great."  
  
"Is it true you're niece to the almighty Tallest Purple?"  
  
Wow, word travels fast. "Yes, it's true." The press went nuts with that one.  
  
"What do you plan to do now?"  
  
"I'm in the military; whatever they assign me to do."  
  
"I see blood, are you OK?"  
  
"Don't worry, it's not mine."  
  
"SIR!"  
  
Elize looked over. It was one of her men; Private Drok. "What is it private?" she kept her hand on her hip but lowered her gun. "Several men were injured during battle. There are five men in the infirmary right now." Elize sighed. "Are there any serious injuries?"  
  
"I'm not sure but I don't think so. The paramedics told us that each would fully recover."  
  
Elize smiled and clapped Drok on the shoulder. "Good. Well done private, I couldn't have done it without you guys. Where are the rest of the men?"  
  
Private Drok's face swelled with pride. "Thank you Sir! The men are on the platform, waiting for you."  
  
"Well let's not keep them waiting."  
  
"And Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Were you… uh… shot in the eye? The paint - Where's your helmet?"  
  
Elize sighed. "I'll explain later."  
  
They somehow got through the press to the awards area, where the media was kept back by military police. Elize stood at the front of her squad before the stage, where her men clapped her on the shoulder for single-handedly taking down the squad leader. "Man, she KILLED the guy!"  
  
"Must be PMS!"  
  
They all laughed – even Elize as she punched the guy in the shoulder. "Hey, let's keep it clean, shall we? And I wouldn't have to if you all weren't playing with yourselves during the fight!"  
  
A loud "OH!" ran through them and they all laughed. After a victory, all tensions were gone.  
  
"PRESENTING," started the announcer. The squad quieted down. "THE GAME OFFICAL WITH THE RESULTS!"  
  
Squad number 203 cheered and clapped as the official mounted the stage. He walked to the podium and motioned with his hands for it to be quiet. "I would first like to say-"  
  
"Get on with it!" someone in the squad shouted, and everyone laughed.  
  
The Official pointed at him. "I could write you up for that!" More laughter. The official smiled and gripped the podium. "I would first like to say that this was a great battle. Great skill, pride, and honor are reflected in these fine soldiers who fought today." The crowd and both squads applauded. "Next, I would like to say that these squads were even for a long time. It was going to be hard to decide the winner - at least until a certain hand-to-hand battle near the end."  
  
Cheers rang out. Elize's squad nudged her and hit her playfully. "For a show of great skill, and a second back-to-back victory in the annual war games, I present this award to Lieutenant first class Elize!"  
  
A huge ovation rose from the crowd as Elize walked up to the stage. Her squad whistled and shook their fists in the air, chanting her name. There were even some good-natured catcalls and howls. "Ow-OW!"  
  
She smiled and scratched the back of her neck as she approached the podium. There was more laughter as Elize, who was taller than the official, had to bend down so he could put the medal around her neck. Even then, he had to stand on his toes. Another bout of laughter ran through the crowd as she adjusted the podiums microphone to her height. She gripped the podium and looked over her shoulder at the official. "How ya doing down there?" she winked at him, and everybody laughed. She chuckled as she turned towards the huge audience.  
  
"Wow. This is really great. I would like to thank my squad, without who's infernal time-wasting I wouldn't have had the chance to show off like I did."  
  
Lots of laughter.  
  
"But seriously, without them this victory would not have been possible. They have shown great determination and skill as long as I have known them. They are very dedicated, and did not let me down." She clapped and there was a standing ovation as she said that. Her squad beamed and smiled. Down in the first row, Teke stood. Her helmet was off, and she smiled up in admiration at Elize, her yellow eyes full of respect. Elize felt very humbled. She took the microphone out of its holder and stepped out from around the podium. "Get up here, Teke." She said, extending a hand. Teke didn't know what to do.  
  
"ME?"  
  
"Yes you, now get up here."  
  
Teke grabbed Elize's hand, who pulled her up on stage. She swung an arm around Teke's neck and spoke into the microphone. "I would like to give a special honor to Private Teke, who was the only member of my squad who was able to find me," Everyone laughed. Teke blushed and put a hand to her face.  
  
"Whose skills seemed to figure out what was stumping everybody else." She squeezed Teke's neck for a second. Teke was smiling and bright red.  
  
"Must be a girl thing, eh?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
There was laughter at Teke's nervous response. Elize raised an eyebrow. "I'm not embarrassing you, am I?" Teke widened her eyes and shook her head quickly with sarcasm.  
  
"NO…"  
  
More laughing. Elize laughed as she replaced the microphone in its holder. She and Teke hugged, and there were some vulgar whistles and noises. Afterward Teke leaned over to the microphone. "Oh, grow up!"  
  
The entire arena laughed and applauded as her and Elize stepped down from the stage. The official applauded and stood behind the podium, readjusting the microphone, causing more laughs.  
  
"Our next order of business: Preparations for the next two squads. The next squads competing will be as follows…"  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
After the awards, Teke talked with the other squad members. It was mostly ribbing her for being so uptight on stage.  
  
"You were really red. I could tell from where I was."  
  
"Yeah, when the Lieutenant brought me up there I thought I was going to die!"  
  
"How DID you find her anyway?"  
  
"It was really a fluke! I looked up at the crowd and-" she stopped. "Hey, where is the Lieutenant anyway?"  
  
He shrugged. "I dunno. I think she went up to the viewing box to see her uncle. Shit, some family tree she's got, eh?"  
  
"Yeah, tell me about it. I guess I'll go see her and tell her about our next assignment."  
  
"How do you know about it?"  
  
"I don't. What happened was her superior, Commander Ian, told me he needed to talk to her about it. I guess he thinks I'm her second in command, since she brought me up on stage."  
  
Lieutenant second class Tao, Elize's second in command, butt in. "Yeah, well make sure she straitens him out about that."  
  
They all chuckled. "Well I'm going to find her. See you later."  
  
Elize started down the hall, towards the private viewing boxes. She headed for the presidential suite, where Purple Tallest was most likely to have been watching. She heard noise coming from a suite with an ajar door, and approached it. Sure enough, Lieutenant Elize was in there.  
  
"Lieutenant I-"  
  
"I'm sorry about this," said a voice from inside the room. Teke saw that Elize was in the room, alone. The room was dark except a viewer screen, which displayed a video of the Purple Tallest. Elize sat on the back of a chair, her feet on the seat. She leaned on her elbows, one hand fingering her medal as she watched the video.  
  
"But I had to leave early. Red is in the infirmary – long story – and I'd better go take him home. I did get to see most of the battle though-"  
  
A voice off camera yelled for Purple. He growled. "Excuse me,"  
  
He leaned off camera and yelled something unintelligible, rapid and angry, in Irkin. He looked back at the camera and sighed. "Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes." He cleared his throat. "I did see all of the battle, but I'm afraid I can't attend the awards ceremony. I have just enough time to tape this before I have to leave. You were spectacular, my dear. It's times like this when my belief that you're destined for greatness is strengthened." Elize smiled sadly as she watched. "I'm very sorry I'm not there to congratulate you in person, but duty calls, I'm sure you understand. I'm looking forward to seeing you at the banquet next cycle, so I'll commend you there." He smiled warmly, and the tone of his voice changed. "I'm very proud of you Elize. And so is your mother, though she may not show it. We both think you're an incredible fighter, and I know you to be wise beyond your years in battle-tactics. I… I love you like a daughter. I know you'll make me proud for many years so come. Great job today, those moves were executed perfectly. I have no doubt in my mind you'll surpass me one day."  
  
Teke was severely touched. Not only was 'family' a rare occurrence in Irkin life, but a family that cared for each other the way Purple Tallest was expressing was remarkable. And the term 'love' was not thrown around loosely. Teke began to feel an ach in her heart she had never experienced before.  
  
"You'll make a great general some day, and hell-" he raised an eyebrow. "You my even have my job some time in the future. Well, that's all I have time for. I'll see you later." He reached for the camera to turn it off, but hesitated. He smiled into the camera. "I'm very proud of you, sweet- heart." And then the screen when blank. Teke left, feeling as if she had intruded. 


	10. Forbidden Fruit

I'm sorry about the lack of updates but things haven't been going so hot around here. My aunt just got a double organ transplant and a friend of mine got in a car crash and didn't make it (Thus the lack of inspiration to write). And don't take this the wrong way but NO MORE PLOT ADVICE! I already know where the story is going and have it planned out. So please, I respect input but you may be giving away parts of the story, thus lessening their impact.  
  
.To be so blunt.  
  
Excuse me for the rudeness but that's how it is. Well, if you want to read the newest edition after that rant, go ahead. To borrow words from the master:  
  
"Now that you're primed and ready for laughs - ENJOY!" - Jhonen Vasquez ______________________________________________________  
  
Zim sat in the ship's captain's seat, staring up at the ceiling. One foot was propped up on the copilot's chair, the other on the floor. He sighed. Things were not going as planned. The engine would take weeks to fix, and plus, they didn't know what to do next. Spluge was out walking the streets, getting newspapers and anything else that might yield information. Zim wanted to sleep. He couldn't go to bed; Gaz and Dib were bickering in the dormitory. He was trying to fall asleep in the cockpit, but it wasn't working, there was too much light. He looked out the windshield, out the door of the hanger. It was starting to drizzle. He sighed again, and put on a pair of sunglasses, hoping to block out most of the light. Surprisingly, they did. He leaned the chair back and tried to get some rest.  
  
But his efforts were too late. Just as he was getting comfortable, Spluge came back. "Hey Zim, what's up?" Zim groaned, but didn't move. "What did you get? Anything interesting?" Spluge flipped through a stack of papers and tabloids he had picked up. "Haven't really checked yet. Hey - get a load of this."  
  
Spluge tossed a magazine titled, in Irkin, 'Empire Times'. Zim lifted it up above his head, which was still facing the ceiling, to look at the cover. Once he got a look at it he straitened and took his foot off the seat.  
  
"Well hello," he said, lowering the sunglasses to see over the rims. "What have we here?"  
  
The cover story was entitled: "War Games Success Story". On the cover was a snapshot of a female Irkin, the leader of the winning squad. The picture was from the waist up; you could see the one hand on her hip and the other holding a rifle towards the ground. She was looking over her shoulder at a soldier who was talking to her. Her eyes were deep blue and she had a fan of orange around her right one like war paint. The sub-heading was: 'Youngest Squad Leader Ever to Win Back-To-Back Titles'. Zim whistled.  
  
"Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh. how did they ever let THAT into the military?"  
  
Spluge leaned to look at the cover and smiled. "You're telling me. That kind of woman can make a strong man weak and a smart man stupid."  
  
"You can say that again. Man, I'm sleeping well tonight."  
  
Spluge laughed. "Your height and tastes may have changed, but your common sense hasn't, she's gorgeous."  
  
Zim purred. "She can lead me into battle any day."  
  
"Christ, Zim," said Dib out of nowhere. "Is this really the time to be ogling Irkin women?"  
  
Zim looked at him and cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "I'm not dead yet."  
  
Just then Gaz walked in. She wore her all too famous: 'Doom' expression. "Is this yours?" She asked, pulled GIR up to shoulder level. He squirmed and hollered in her grasp. "He was trying to eat my Game Slave batteries. And unless there's a Radio Shack somewhere around here, those have to last me a long time. Could we PLEASE turn him off?"  
  
Zim reluctantly shook his head - GIR had caused them enough trouble. "Sorry, I'm trying to make some modifications, and unless he's on I can't judge if he's working properly with them."  
  
Gaz gave Zim a look. "Was he EVER working properly?"  
  
Zim had to consider this for a long time. "Oh, quite whining about your stupid Game Slave!" said Dib, venturing into dangerous territory. "Don't you have more important thing to do?"  
  
Gaz opened one eye open wide and squinted the other. "I'm going to help Zim with the engine when he gets the parts, but until then I'm TRYING not to go insane with boredom! God, we've been here several hours and haven't done anything! Excuse me if I can't find anything more constructive to do."  
  
"Well you could at least read up on the schematics!"  
  
"Hello! I'm trying to AVERT boredom!"  
  
"Well-"  
  
"ENOUGH!" Screamed Zim desperately, standing up and taking off his glasses. "That's it! I'm going stir-crazy! I'm gonna go for a walk. One more minute around you two bickering and I'm gonna crack!" Zim tossed his sunglasses on the captain's seat and nearly slammed the Vooter's door when he left. Spluge ran after him, to tell him about the riots near the federal building. For a moment there was silence. Until -  
  
"Nice job Dib! Now he's probably NEVER going to come back!"  
  
"ME!? Hey, you were the one."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Zim zipped up his hoodie and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was already out of the hanger before he realized he might not be dressed properly - human fashion wasn't exactly 'all the rage' on Irk. He stopped to take inventory: Khaki shorts that went past his knees, Adidas shoes, and his pink uniform shirt under his hoodie. Not very normal, but not all together weird. The hoodie was navy blue, a neutral color. He supposed he would be all right and continued walking.  
  
The streets of Capitolia, the Irkin capital, looked different, but on the whole were just as he remembered them. The same buildings were still there, like the Federal building where Spluge had said something about riots. "Supposedly," Spluge had said just before Zim took his walk, "Some Reaptarian civilians are protesting outside, to free the captive Reaptarian fleet from prison. You might wanna check it out - we my find some allies." So that's where Zim was headed. He passed few Irkin's on his walk, because of the light rain. The rain, of course, was not like Earth's. It resembled the consistency of acid rain on Earth, because of the sulfur dioxide. The only suspicious look he got was from female Irkin, considerably shorter than him. She locked eyes with him, and didn't stop looking at him until they had passed each other. In fact, every Female Irkin he passed gave him that look. He guessed that his increased height must have made him more attractive, but he was joking. His clothes must have just been weird.  
  
As he walked through downtown Capitolia, he gazed up at the architecture he had not seen in at least seven years. The silver buildings curved majestically overhead, reflecting the pink-orange sky. He sighed, knowing he would never look at them the same way again.  
  
After about ten minutes of walking, he turned the corner to the Federal building. Outside the street was blocked with Reaptarian protesters, circling and waving signs written in both Irkin and Reaptarian. The place was crawling with soldiers, trying to keep the situation under control. To Zim, the commotion looked too risky at the moment to approach any of them. He tried an alley on the side of the building to avoid it.  
  
The alley, thankfully, was much less hazardous. Rain swirled into sewer grates under his feet, drawing small rivers of dirty water along the concrete. He sighed and watched them, pondering his next move. He followed one around the corner of a building, to where it emptied through a grate and into the sewer. He looked up - and down the barrel of a blaster.  
  
A soldier was aiming a blaster at him form point-blank rage. Zim gasped and yanked his hands out of his pockets; unconsciously reaching for the blaster at the small of his back he always carried, with his right hand. He would have drawn it if the soldier hadn't lowered the gun. The soldier holstered the gun and in one move flipped up the visor of the helmet and took it off completely. "Oh my God, I almost shot you," said the soldier. Zim however, didn't hear it.  
  
He stared in disbelief at the person he almost shot. Looking back at him was the gorgeous Lieutenant from the cover of the magazine. She was dressed in normal, black armor instead of the silver suit from the war games. The only difference was that across her chest was a red strip, signifying her superiority. She was only a few inches shorter than him, by the looks of it. Her eyes were the same blue color from the cover. 'My God,' thought Zim, 'She's even more beautiful in person'. His jaw hung open slightly in awe.  
  
"Sorry. I thought you were a protester trying to sneak in through the back. We've had more than a few attempts at that." She tilted her head slightly at him. "You OK?"  
  
Zim realized that he had been staring. He snapped out of it and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh. yeah. just a little spooked by a blaster aimed at me. Doesn't happen everyday." She didn't realize that he was lying; when he was an Invader, he almost ALWAYS had a blaster aimed at him. She was lucky his gun reflexes were not what they once were, or else she probably would've had a bullet through her head by now. She smiled slightly. "Speak for yourself."  
  
He smiled back stupidly, dazed by her beauty. He shook his head, trying to come to his senses. "You guys having a lot of trouble with protesters?"  
  
She shrugged. "Enough. Several of them broke a window in the lobby earlier. But nothing big since then." She sighed. Zim marveled at the beautiful sound.  
  
"Well, be careful now. There are other soldiers roaming the alleys." She turned to leave. Zim's mind raced. He couldn't just let her walk out of his life like that, could he?  
  
"Wait!" he said. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes?"  
  
He took a deep breath before starting. "Look. I don't usually do this. but. well, do you think we could, maybe, go get a drink somewhere real quick?"  
  
She looked to the side, thinking. He knew she was going to say no, he just knew it. She was on duty; she couldn't just walk away from her post.  
  
"Well, I can't just up and leave my position."  
  
"Well, you're the leader aren't you? I can tell by the strip on your chest." Of course, she didn't have to know he was staring at her chest for a different reason. "You could say you were interviewing a witness to the riots, or something. Please?"  
  
'You're coming off desperate,' he thought, 'She's never going to go now.' He was so dead set on rejection that when she answered, he almost fell over.  
  
She glanced at the watch imbedded in her wrist armor. "Well, I usually don't do this either - but you've caught me in a good mood. Sure, where to?"  
  
Zim's mind was temporarily paralyzed with shock. "Um. I saw a café just across the street."  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
They sat by the window, facing the rioters from afar. They both ordered Blachia, a sort of Irkin cappuccino. After they ordered, Zim rest his head on his hand and just looked at her, disbelieving she was really there. She took a sip of her drink then set it down. "I see you recognized the symbol on my armor - are you in the military?"  
  
He didn't blink as he answered. "I used to be in the military."  
  
"Really? What were you?"  
  
"An Invader."  
  
She seemed slightly impressed by this - Invaders are higher up than combat forces. "Really? That must have been interesting. What happened?"  
  
"Oh, you know, conquered worlds."  
  
She chuckled. Zim thought he was going to die. "No, I mean why aren't you an Invader anymore?"  
  
He felt really stupid - of course that's what she ment!  
  
"Oh. Um. honorable discharge. A cousin of mine was having trouble with a business and since I was his only known relative, they discharged me to help him." Might as well keep the original cover story.  
  
She nodded and lifted her drink to her mouth. She brought it down and licked the froth off her lips. Zim felt like he was being tortured, and shakily drew in a breath. "Oh my God."  
  
She looked up. "Hmm?"  
  
"Oh, uh, nothing. Say, I think I've seen you somewhere before."  
  
She smiled. "Yeah, on the magazine covers."  
  
He nodded. "Oh yeah, now I remember. That's a pretty impressive record."  
  
She sighed and looked out the window. He sighed as well, and continued to look. After a moment she turned back to him. "What?"  
  
"I can't seem to take my eyes off you." He said without thinking. This seemed to be the right answer, thought. She blushed slightly at the compliment. She took a sip of her drink. "You know, I don't even know your name."  
  
"Zim." He said, once again without thinking. He realized the mistake, but was too slow to retract it. She raised an eyebrow. "Zim? Did you say Zim?"  
  
He frantically searched for an explanation. "No, no, it's Zin. Zin."  
  
"Oh," she said. "Mine's Elize, in case you haven't read the article already."  
  
Elize, he thought, what a beautiful name. He put the hand that wasn't supporting his head in his pocket. It was then that he realized he had no money.  
  
He almost panicked.  
  
"Um. Elize. about the-"  
  
"Oh, I'll pay for the drinks. I can write it off as a business venture on my Federal credit card. Thanks, tough."  
  
He nearly cried with relief. He picked up his untouched drink and sipped it. It's taste was one he had loved back 'in the day', but now it tasted slightly bitter. Still, he drank it; it brought back a certain feeling of nostalgia. He lowered his cup just in time to catch her glancing at her watch. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry; I was supposed to check in a little while ago. I have to leave." She got up from the table, sliding her credit card through the slot in the table as she did so, taking care of the bill. He stood up to see her out. "Listen - is there any way I could contact you? Maybe get together again?"  
  
She smiled. "Well, I'm usually stationed aboard the Gargantuan with my squad, but I have a leave coming up soon. Sure, here's a number." She grabbed a napkin off the table. "Got a pen?" Surprisingly, he did. She leaned against the window as she wrote down the number, and Zim couldn't help but notice the curve of her back. When she was done she handed him the napkin and the pen back. Smiling, she bid him farewell. "See you again some time," she said.  
  
"Yeah. See you."  
  
She walked back across the street. Zim leaned against the doorframe and watched her leave.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
Zim was in much better spirits when he got back to the ship. He felt as if he was walking on air, and whistled. He walked by the cockpit, where he greeted Dib warmly. He passed Gaz in the hall, and gave her a peck on the check. She stopped and looked at him, puzzled, as he continued down the hall. He skipped into the dormitory, where he plopped down on his bed, grinning. He sprawled out on his back and spread his arms. He sighed. It took him a moment to notice Spluge standing against the wall.  
  
"And why are you so happy?" he asked, crossing his arms. Zim closed his eyes and grinned. "I got a date."  
  
Spluge let out a 'ha'. "No kidding. With who?"  
  
Zim laid a hand on his chest and sighed deeply. "With that blue-eyed angel on the cover of 'Empire Times'."  
  
Spluge made a sarcastic sound. "Yeah, right."  
  
Zim opened his eyes. "No, I'm serious. She almost shot me, for Christ's sake. I asked if she wanted a drink, she accepted - one thing led to another, and now I've got her number! Can you believe that?"  
  
Spluge just looked at him. "I'm not sure if I do. Tell me, is she as pretty as in the picture?"  
  
Zim sat up. "Are you kidding? My God, I almost orgasmed watching her eat!"  
  
Spluge sat down on the bed. "You really got her number?" Zim nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"She said she's stationed on some ship called the Gargantuan. If I call there and dial this extension I'll get her. Gargantuan. tell me, why does that sound so familiar?"  
  
"Probably because that's the ship the Tallests command. It used to be the 'Massive', but they upgraded several years ago. If she's stationed there then she must be highly ranked."  
  
Zim's eyes widened in realization. "My God, it is! Wow, I didn't know that."  
  
Spluge huffed. "Figures. She IS related to 'em."  
  
Zim's bow lowered in concern. "What?"  
  
"Yeah, I thought you knew. Purple Tallest is her friggin' uncle!"  
  
Zim pulled back his antennae, and the color drained from his face. "You're kidding." He said, hoping he was. Spluge shook his head. "No."  
  
Zim ran a hand over his head and exhaled sharply. He kept his hand on his head as he looked at the floor. Spluge sat there for a moment, then leaned close to Zim, talking in a quiet, serious tone.  
  
"You mean to tell me that you got involved with this girl, not knowing she was niece to one of your worst enemies?"  
  
Zim just looked at him.  
  
"FUCK, Zim!" shouted Spluge as he spun up from where he sitting and covered his forehead with his head. He walked a little ways before turning back sharply to face Zim. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. When he looked up, he spoke softly, trying to keep his voice calm. "You love this girl don't you? I can see it in your eyes. Don't lie, you'll make things worse."  
  
Zim gripped his right shoulder with his left hand, hugging himself somewhat. "I think I do."  
  
Spluge swore softly. "And does she feel the same way?"  
  
Zim shrugged solemnly. "Maybe, she showed interest."  
  
Spluge shook his head. "Well there's only one thing we can do: Pump her for information, use her, find out all you can from her. She is his niece, she'll have some insider information-"  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." said Zim, getting up from the bed. "First of all, I don't even know if this is going to pan out yet, second. I don't want to use her like that."  
  
"Oh, come on, Zim, you were an Invader!"  
  
Zim stopped for a second and looked at Spluge, surprised and hurt.  
  
"I mean, no offense man, but you probably had to do a lot of LOW shit to conquer all those worlds."  
  
Zim sighed, knowing it was the truth. Spluge's expression softened. "I'm sorry man, but that's how it is."  
  
Zim turned away, opening and closing his fists. "But it feels so wrong."  
  
Spluge sighed, and rest a hand on the shoulder of his young friend. "I know it does, IT IS wrong. But this may be our only chance for leads. I mean. I didn't help you smuggle in two aliens for you to chicken out. It's too late for that."  
  
Zim looked at Spluge with sad eyes. "I know. But I don't know how long I can hold out." Spluge put an arm around him and they didn't say anything for a long time.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
After she shared a drink with Zim, who she knew as 'Zin', Elize walked back to the Federal Building to check in with her squad by radio. She didn't have to check in personally, so she could have technically checked in at the café without leaving, but she wasn't supposed to let anyone hear her conversations with military personel. She put her helmet back on and pressed the 'talk' button on her radio. "This is Lieutenant first class checking in. All is well, over."  
  
Lieutenant Tao's voice came over the speaker. "Rodger that, Lieutenant. We were just starting to worry about you, over."  
  
"No need for that, everything's fine, over."  
  
Elize turned the corner into the alley and almost ran into another soldier, which turned out to be Teke. Elize sighed in relief. "Don't do that, Teke, you scared the shit out of me."  
  
Teke removed her helmet. "Who was that?"  
  
Elize played dumb. "Who was who?"  
  
Teke smirked. "That cutie you were at the café with. C'mon, tell me, a friend of yours?"  
  
Elize tried to make her expression serious. "No, he was a pedestrian. I thought it would be a good idea to get a civilian's perspective on the riot situation. Ya know, to get a better understanding of their standpoint."  
  
Teke gave her a look. Elize cracked a smile. "He WAS a cutie, wasn't he?"  
  
They both giggled. "So what happened?"  
  
"You know, it was the strangest thing. First, I almost shot him because I thought he was a rioter. Then, out of the blue, he asks if I would get a drink with him. I guess I must have thought he was good looking at the time, because I agreed."  
  
Teke put her hands on her hips. "Picking up guys on duty. Your life is a fantasy."  
  
Elize shrugged. "Not really, it just looks that way to the untrained eye."  
  
They laughed. "So when are you going on leave?"  
  
Elize smiled. "Tomorrow. That leaves four days before the banquet to do NOTHING! I can't wait. I haven't gone on leave in SO long."  
  
"I don't remember you EVER going on leave. Well, there was that time during the Food Courtia battle, but that wasn't even for a whole day."  
  
"Yeah, that doesn't even count."  
  
Teke put her helmet back on. "I'd better get back to my post before Tao yells at me again."  
  
"Tao was giving you a hard time? Well don't worry about that, I'll tell him you were on orders from me - he'll shut up real quick if he knows what's good for him."  
  
They walked back to their posts, laughing.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
The same day Elize met Zim, Red awoke restless. He felt worried after Purple's premonition during the night. He felt bad that he couldn't help him in some way, but he knew that Purple had his own demons to sort out. It was best to steer clear of internal conflicts like that.  
  
But still it unnerved him. He rolled out of bed.  
  
He shrugged a robe over his shoulders and examined the bandage on his neck. The doctor had said he could take it of this morning; it should be fully scabbed over. Carefully, he lifted the corner of the wrappings and began to pull them off. He winced in pain as the surgical tape pulled at the tender flesh, revealing his wound. After the dressing was completely removed, he probed the lesions with his fingers. They weren't too deep, but deep enough to scar. Two dark red lines down the sides of his windpipe like an inverted equal sign that would remain there the rest of his life. They would eventually heal and turn to scar tissue; green and uneven. But until then they were very sensitive and would have to be delt with carefully. Red smirked. Wouldn't Purple be disappointed.  
  
He was still bored. There were no meetings, briefings, or reports of any kind scheduled for the day. Usually he would have no problem sleeping through the entire day, but he was already wide-awake. He could watch programming on the viewing box (him and Purple did get every channel in existence) but that thought bored him too. He sighed.  
  
Then the buzzer sounded. He went to go answer the door.  
  
He looked at the small monitor next to the door, which displayed a soldier behind it. Red quickly donned his 'I just got up, you're bothering me' face and opened the door.  
  
The soldier on the other side looked surprised to see Red, even though he rang the buzzer. Red leaned against the doorframe and yawned. "Yes?"  
  
"Um. Sir, I was asked to see how you were doing. after the attack an all."  
  
Red nodded his head sleepily. "Fine, just fine. I." he trailed off when he noticed the standard issue blaster holstered against the soldiers hip. It wasn't out of the ordinary - every soldier, of every rank had one. It wasn't unusual for this soldier to have it, but it gave Red an idea.  
  
"Um. Sir?" asked the soldier confusedly. Red snapped out of it and looked at him. "Huh? Oh. Yes, I'm fine. That is all soldier." He turned back in the room and the soldier walked away.  
  
Red, now wound up, walked briskly into the bedroom, where Purple still lay sleeping. He leaned over the bed and nudged his shoulder. "Purple.Purple. wake up."  
  
Purple groaned without moving. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night because of the nightmare, but Red thought he was just being difficult. He nudged him harder. "Purple!"  
  
"What?!" he said in a loud whisper, obviously irritated by the fact he was being awakened. Red ran over to Purple's side of the bed.  
  
"Could we go to the shooting range today?"  
  
Purple peered through the haze of sleep at Red, puzzled. "What?"  
  
"Oh, c'mon. I'm bored. I haven't been there in a while, and I know it's been even longer for you. There's nothing to do today so we might as well."  
  
Purple shook his head groggily. "I don't want to."  
  
Red rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of the bed. "Come on! There's nothing to do!"  
  
"There's nothing stopping YOU from going. And besides, the only shooting range we could go to is the one at the Invader's academy, and I don't feel like being ogled and asked to sign autographs."  
  
Red growled in frustration. "Without you there's no competition, it will be almost as boring as if I didn't go at all. And who cares if they make a big deal out of us, its nothing new."  
  
Purple sighed and propped himself up on an elbow. "Competition? Red, you've always been a better marksman than me."  
  
"So? You're still better than anyone I'll find at the academy. And if they WERE good, they'd probably throw the match. Besides - I'm a little rusty, you might get lucky."  
  
Purple sighed. "Red."  
  
"Oh, please? Come on." he clasped his hands together and leaned them on the bed. Purple sighed and looked at the bedside clock. "Do I have to get up right now?"  
  
Red shook his head. "No, take all the time you need."  
  
Purple groaned an: 'I can't believe I'm agreeing to this' groan and looked back at Red. "Fine. Give me fifteen nano-cycles."  
  
Red smiled and got up. "Thanks Purple." He was about to walk away, when he leaned over and gave Purple a peck on the check. "I love you." He ran off and Purple groaned, pulling the comforter over his head.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
After twenty nano-cycles, they were in the car on their way. Red crossed his arms and glared at Purple, who had fallen asleep in the seat. Finally, after a few moments, he kicked the seat, waking him from his inappropriate slumber.  
  
"Uh. what.?"  
  
Red glared at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
Red sighed and looked out the one-way window. "You could have stayed if you were just going to sleep all day."  
  
Purple rolled his eyes. "I tried to reason with you but NOOO. Well. I'm sorry. I'll try to wake up." he looked around. After a moment he threw a suggestive look at Red. "I know what'll wake me up."  
  
Red smiled slyly. He began to move closer when Purple pointed at the backseat Java-machine. "Hand me that coffee."  
  
Red hung his mouth open, then harrumphed and hit a button on the machine. After it poured, he thrust it at Purple and then recrossed his arms and legs. "You're terrible." He said, looking out the window. Purple chuckled and took a sip. He looked at his coffee, then back at Red. "What? No sugar?" Red threw several packets at his face.  
  
He shrugged. "Fair enough." He picked one up off the seat, opened it, and poured it into his coffee.  
  
After another sip, Purple held it in his hands between his knees and stared into it, thinking. His dream last night had caused an entirely new wave of premonitions. And they weren't normal premonitions; they were mixed with a feeling of déjà vu, like something past was coming back to get him. Zim? Well, Zim was a large part of it, but he was not the complete story. It was as if his history was trying to resurrect itself, through Zim. But. Zim couldn't possibly know -  
  
"Purple?" asked Red, now concerned instead of irritated. Purple looked up like nothing was the matter. "Yes?" Red opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it and looked back out the window. "Nothing." Purple took a sip of his drink and replaced it between his knees. "I feel a little more awake now, if it's any consolation."  
  
Red said nothing. Purple took another sip.  
  
"Maybe kicking my ass in a shootout will cheer you up."  
  
Red smiled without taking his eyes off the scenery. "Maybe."  
  
Purple quickly downed the remainder of his coffee. Red straitened in his seat. "We're here." He sighed. "Damn, it looks to be a bigger deal than I expected."  
  
Purple raised an eyebrow. Red pointed at him. "Don't say anything."  
  
Purple threw his hands up in mock surrender.  
  
They felt the car slow to a halt, and a soldier who had been riding in front walked around to open the door. "Put on your 'happy face' Red," said Purple before the door opened. "It's show time."  
  
The door opened and immediately they heard the excitement outside. The car was soundproof, so until then they had heard nothing. They stepped out and the noise grew louder.  
  
The good news was that because it was the Invader's academy, there were no civilians to get out of hand. The crowd of undergraduate Invaders was relatively behaved, but still just as wound up. Red and Purple walked in, side by side, waving. After they were inside, the crowd quickly dispersed and went about their business. Red gave Purple a look. "See. It wasn't that bad, was it?" Purple rolled his eyes.  
  
Red and Purple were approached by Academy officials as soon as they walked in the door. The president clasped his hands together and greeted them joyfully. "Welcome, welcome! What brings the Almighty Tallests to our humble establishment?"  
  
"We were actually interested in practicing our marksmanship," stated Red professionally. "Tell me, is the shooting range open?"  
  
The president's happy demeanor faltered. "Actually, there are exercises scheduled in the shooting range today. - But we could postpone them if you would like."  
  
Red shook his head. "No, no need for that. Don't want to infringe on the training of our Invaders, do we?"  
  
"No, certainly not." Said Purple. "But tell me, is the hologram platform free?"  
  
The president became happy again. "Why yes. Would your highnesses like to practice there?"  
  
They looked at each other, then back at the academy president. "I think so." Said Red. The President clapped his hands once. "Then it's settled. I'll take you there now, myself. Guards - make sure no student goes near the holo-platform area. We don't want the Almighty Tallests to be disturbed."  
  
He motioned for them to follow him and they did. After a brief walk, they arrived in front of a seemingly normal door. The only peculiarity was a small monitor and keypad next to it. The president turned to them. "I take it you know how to work the halo-platform, so I'll leave you alone. It you need anything there's an intercom in the-"  
  
"Yes, thank you for your concern, but we would like to get started." Stated Purple bluntly. The president nodded and was on his way. Purple began to type on the keypad. "Hmm. what'd ya say, Red. How 'bout an obstacle course?"  
  
Red raised an eyebrow. "You're suddenly gun-ho on this. Why?"  
  
Purple laughed. "No reason. Now - I think I got this thing right. Yep, there it goes."  
  
Red didn't notice Purple smirk as the doors opened. There WAS a reason Purple was so happy. The doors slid open and they stepped in.  
  
The room was roughly the size of a hanger on the 'Gargantuan'. It was void of color; completely black walls, floor and ceiling stared back at them. They stood side by side at the center of the room, waiting to initiate the program. Purple nodded at Red, who yelled out into the cavernous room: "Initiate Program!"  
  
There was a brief hum as the simulation booted, then a blinding flash of light. When the flood of illumination subsided, Purple found himself to be clad in armor, holding a blaster. The room was no longer a black void: It had been transformed into a jungle of metal structures much like the battle arena his niece had competed in. He looked at the blaster, then at his own armor. He smirked. "Hey Red - it's been forever since-"  
  
He turned to look at Red, but he was no longer there. ".I've. worn. battle armor."  
  
He must have run off into hiding already. Which ment he probably was staking out a vantage point - right now. A shot whizzed past Purple's helmet so close he could feel the air rush past.  
  
Purple knew Red was more accurate than that, if he wanted to hit him, he would have. That was just his way of saying 'get your ass in gear'. Purple shifted his weight, ready to run into hiding. He sighed. "Shit."  
  
He ran and pressed up against a structure facing the opposite was from where the shot was fired. Purple was feeling less confident than he had at the beginning - Red was a better field soldier and marksman than him. Purple, although trained for it, was ment for piloting rather than ground battles. Put him behind the stick of a battle-cruiser, and he was a master. But hand him a Blaster and a helmet - that was a different story. Red was much more used to field tactics than aerial dogfights. Purple cocked his blaster and advanced.  
  
Purple's advantage would come in the third stage of the course. Red had not known which simulation Purple had chosen, and most likely would have protested if he DID see which one was picked. But it was too late for that. Purple would simply fare the best he could until the first stage was over.  
  
He ran; his blaster towards the ground for safety. He ran past a break in the trench, momentarily loosing cover. Fire rang out and echoed off the walls as shots hurtled past Purple, nearly hitting him. He spun up against the trench wall and took off his helmet. He had a brilliant idea: He threw the helmet off in the distance, into a clearing to his left. The helmet made a loud noise, and shots were fired towards it. This gave him just enough time to maneuver:  
  
He stepped back through the break in the trench, to see the direction in which the shots were coming from. He spotted Red at the top of a distant trench, only his arms and head leveled above its apex. Purple fired twice: both shots came close, but nicked the top of the structure instead of hitting Red. Red quickly ducked back behind the trench's crest. "Shit." mumbled Purple to himself. He turned back behind cover and advanced.  
  
Before running into the clearing to fetch his helmet, he checked to make sure the coast was clear. He carefully looked around, and saw no one. He hit the side of the metal trench, making a loud noise, and quickly ducked back under cover. When no shots were fired, he assumed it was safe. He carefully stepped out, then walked quickly to his fallen helmet. He bent over to pick it up -  
  
"Hold it right there," said a voice. It was shortly followed by the cocking of a blaster. Purple, knowing it could only be one person, turned and looked. He smirked when he saw him. "Oh you're good."  
  
Red smirked under his visor. "Clever trick with the helmet, but you shouldn't have retrieved it. I knew you would, though." He approached Purple. "Stand up strait."  
  
Purple sighed, straitened, and put his hands in the air. Red circled in front of him, and took off his helmet. He kept the blaster aimed at Purple, relishing his victory over him. Purple sighed again.  
  
Red crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. "You're so CUTE on the edge of defeat."  
  
Purple narrowed his eyes. "Just get it over with."  
  
Red shook his head from side to side. "Tich tich tich tich tich, you're no fun." He uncrossed his arms and leveled the blaster with both arms. "Turn around."  
  
Purple reluctantly turned his back to Red, preparing to be 'executed'. Red carefully aimed, making sure not to hit Purple in his helmet less head. He squinted one eye and squeezed off a shot.  
  
The paint pellet hit Purple, hard, high in-between his shoulders. He felt the pain before the shot's echo wore off. He hunched over and reached over his head to where the shot made contact. He stopped biting his lip just long enough to swear. "FUCK Red! That hurt!"  
  
Up until now, Red had been trying desperately to contain his laughter. He rolled his eyes when Purple burst out. "No kidding, ya think it's supposed to feel good?"  
  
"LEVEL ONE COMPLETED. TEN POINTS AWARDED TO PLAYER ONE. LEVEL TWO: COMENCE."  
  
The structures and scenery dropped away in a fashion that was surreal. Suddenly, Purple found himself in the pilot seat of a battle-cruiser. Through the windshield he saw that he was in a long, illuminated tube, with obstacles every so often. He was no longer in paint-splashed battle armor, but the field robes of a pilot. He wore a headset with a microphone. He gripped the joystick between his knees and smiled mischievously. "Bring it on."  
  
"LEVEL TWO: EVASIVE PILOTING."  
  
Both Tallests sped through the course. The first obstacles were simple: structures here, structures there; you just maneuvered around them. After a while they started to become more complex. Moving obstacles, columns, walls that would come out of nowhere. Purple steered with little effort, while Red was becoming fatigued. Purple caught a glimpse of his ship as it barely cleared a moving wall. "What's the matter Red? Not so big without a sidearm, eh?" said Purple into his headset. Red cursed. "Fuck you."  
  
Purple laughed.  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
  
  
Near the end of the second level, they reached a strait-away. It was an old- fashioned race to the finish. Red, having narrowly escaped the obstacles, was dead set on beating Purple. All he had to do was beat him to the finish line, and he would be ahead by another ten points. But this was easier said than done; Purple already had a significant lead. He had been burning his anti-matter boosters for the past several cycles, and had gained a lot of ground. Red, however, had yet to use his; he had been too busy avoiding barriers. Now that he had the chance, he turned them on.  
  
The sudden lurch forward drove him back into the seat. He tried to hang onto the controls as the G-forces pulled him farther away, but his hands were quickly ripped free. The walls of the tube sped past him so fast they were almost unrecognizable.  
  
Purple saw Red approaching on the picture-in-picture feature of the screen. His speed seemed almost uncontrollable. in fact. it WAS uncontrollable! Red was spiraling out of control. Purple nearly screamed into his headset. "Red! DECREASE speed! I repeat, I am not trying to trick you - DECREASE YOUR SPEED!"  
  
Red, however, could barely hear him over the roar of the engines. He could hear Purple's voice vaguely, saying something, but he couldn't make out words. It only got more frantic as he approached Purple's cruiser.  
  
"DAMMIT, RED! YOU'RE GONNA RAM RIGHT INTO ME! I-" just then, Purple's engine died. He stared, wide-eyed at the controls. He glanced up at the small screen in the corner, to see Red's out of control ship barrel towards him. He covered his head with his arms and braced for impact.  
  
The ships collided with a shrill, metal-twisting screech that echoed off the tube walls. Purple's slammed into the tube wall from the blow, and sparks went flying between the grinding metal. The two ships - now so badly mangled you could not tell where one started and the other began - finally bounced of the tube wall and barrel-rolled through the air. Both Tallests screamed as the two ships - now merged - seemed to slingshot through space uncontrollably. The finish line neared, and the two ships hurtled past it. Not long after, they skidded across the ground and ejected their pilots onto the hard, tube surface.  
  
Both Tallests were flung into the air, slid across the smooth metal surface and stopped some distance from their vehicles. Red managed to get his arm under him, and used them for support as he lifted himself. He hissed in breath as the muscles in his shoulder screamed at him, presumably from a blow when the ships collided. He reached across his lesion-ed neck to massage the sore area. He took off his headset. He looked to his right; to the other side of the tube, and saw Purple.  
  
Purple had yet to move. He lay, motionless, with his back to Red. Slowly, an arm creped behind his back in an attempt to roll himself over. Red sat up strait, despite the pain coming from his shoulder and neck. "Pur?"  
  
A painful groan was his only answer.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
NOW WASN'T THAT WORTH THE WAIT!!!!! (#11 coming soon, I promise.)  
  
Hey people: Reviews encourage me to write. 


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